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DEVOTIONAL 



GUIDES. 



BY REV. ROBERT PHILIP, 



OF MABERLY CHAPEL. 



AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY 



BY REV. ALBERT BARNES. 



IN TWO VOLUMES 



VOL. I. 




NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY 



1837. 






Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1836, by 

D. APPLETON & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of New fork. 



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STEREOTYPED BY REDFIELD & LINDSAY, 
No. 13 Chambers street, New York. 



INTRODUCTION 



Few religious writings of the present age have been 
more acceptable to the Christian public, or more useful, 
than those of the Rev. Robert Philip. His small 
treatises on " Manly Piety," &c., which have been re- 
cently collected and published under the head of " The 
Young Man's Closet Library," have already been exten- 
sively circulated in England, and in this country. The 
treatises which compose this volume have been hitherto 
separately issued under the name of " Guides," and 
have been not less successful than the former. Prob- 
ably they are adapted to be more generally useful, from 
the fact that they will be likely to find more readers. 
They are exclusively addressed to Christians ; and they 
so obviously meet the wants of Christians under various 
circumstances of life, that, even were the execution less 
able, they could scarcely fail of being highly appreciated 
by large numbers of the Christian community. 

The happy thought seems to have occurred to the 
mind of the Author to issue a succession of small books, 
similar in their character and tendency, that should be 
adapted to comfort the hearts, relieve the perplexities, 
and promote the spiritual advancement of Christians. 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

A single glance at the different subjects discussed in 
these " Guides," will show that Christians of almost every 
class have been contemplated ; and that the Author has 
adapted his works to cases that were most likely to 
occur, and has selected topics that would be most likely 
to be useful. The subjects of " Christian Experience," 
of " Communion with God ;" of " Redemption ;" the 
" Guides to the Thoughtful," the " Doubting," the " Con- 
scientious," comprise a large portion of the points that 
are interesting to the mass of Christians ; and evidently 
embrace the vital portions of the subjects on which a 
man is interested who desires to " walk with God." 

These subjects are treated in a way that will be sat- 
isfactory to all serious minds. The character of the 
Author's style is evidently fitted to the work which he 
has undertaken. It is simple, pure, terse, intelligible, 
occasionally highly beautiful and forcible. It is with- 
out affectation, laboured effort, or heaviness. It is 
sufficiently sprightly for the subject ; yet never light, 
or trifling. It is evidently the style of a man who 
has much communion with the Sacred Scriptures, and 
with his own heart. The strain of remark is evidently 
in accordance with the Bible, and with the dictates of 
sound and sensible thinking. There is little direct 
reference to doctrinal subjects, yet, every attentive 
reader will be satisfied that his views are such as ac- 
cord with the word of God. He will be constantly 
impressed with the aim of the Author to lead on his 
readers to a deep sense of their responsibility, and to 
avoid the evils of Antinomianism. As specimens of 
great beauty and tenderness of composition, the chapter 
on the " Saviour's Devotional Habits," or the treatise on 
" Communion with God," may be referred to ; and also 
many parts of the treatise on " Redemption," or " The 
New Song in Heaven." 



INTRODUCTION. 



A large portion of these " Guides," is occupied in 
various forms with Christian experience. In regard 
to this important subject, the following remarks may- 
be made, as perhaps not an unsuitable introduction to 
these treatises : — 

I. The great principles of Christian experience are 
substantially the same at all times, and in all countries 
where the gospel effects the hearts of men. Paul, and 
Peter, and the martyrs, experienced substantially the 
same changes when they became Christians which 
occur now. There were substantially the same views 
of sin, of the corruption of the human heart, of the 
mercy of God, of the work of Jesus Christ, and of the 
operation of the Holy Spirit. There was substantially 
also, the same joy on the views of the mercy of God, 
and on the forgiveness of sins, and the same desire to 
glorify the name of God. It is this, in part, which ren- 
ders the Scriptures so valuable to Christians. They 
find there the same great features of Christian experience 
which they are conscious of in their own bosoms, and 
they infer, therefore, that they are united by faith to 
the same Saviour by whose merits the saints of ancient 
times were saved. 

The same is true of Christians of all ages, and all 
countries. Though living in different times, and speak- 
ing different languages, and subjected to different trials, 
yet the great features of their piety are essentially the 
same. The humblest convert at a missionary station 
has communion of feeling with the most refined and 
intelligent Christian of civilized lands, and would speak 
a language on the subject of vital piety which would 
meet with a response in every Christian bosom. It 
follows from this, that works on the characteristic traits 
of a Christian, and on the general subject of Christian 
experience, becomes the property of the world, and of 

1 # 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

all times. They become the permanent inheritance of 
the church ; and if they are true to nature they may be 
as undying as the existence of the church itself. The 
Bible, apart from the direct evidence of its divine origin, 
has thus a hold on the human mind which will secure 
its perpetuity on earth just as long as the church is 
continued. It describes Christian feeling, as well as 
the operations of human depravity, in such a manner 
that every successive Christian feels and knows that it 
is true to nature. He cannot be mistaken in regard to 
it. He may be assailed, and ridiculed; he may be 
unable to answer the cavils of its foes ; he may be put 
to silence by its enemies, but he can no more doubt 
that the sacred writers understood the workings of the 
human mind when under the influence of religion than 
he can his own existence ; and the consequence is, that 
from age to age there are thousands of Christians who 
are not only willing to venture their everlasting all on 
the truth of the Bible, but who would be willing to put 
their faith to a more direct test by going to the stake or 
the flames. In like manner there are treatises in all 
languages, and Christian countries, which become the 
property of the church at large, and which are probably 
destined to travel down amidst all revolutions to the 
Judgment-day. The work of Thomas a Kempis on 
" the Imitation of Christ," is probably such a work. 
It had no more applicability to his times, in its main 
structure, than to these times, and to future ages. The 
" Saint's Everlasting Rest," is probably another such 
work ; and the " Pilgrim's Progress," is destined to a sim- 
ilar immortality. And to mention no other, it is prob- 
able that " Edwards on the Affections," is destined in like 
manner to become the property of the church at large, 
and to guide tens of thousands of future inquirers into 
the knowledge of their real standing in the sight of God. 



INTRODUCTION. 



II. But although this is true in regard to the prin- 
ciples of Christian piety, and of the works which assert 
and defend those principles, it is also true that the 
Christians of every age demand books adapted to their 
peculiar character, temptation, trials and wants. While 
the great principles of piety remain every where the 
same, and the mental operations in religion in all times 
and places must substantially coincide, it is also true 
that " there are diversities of operations, though the 
same God worketh all in all." 1 Cor. xii. 6. At one 
time a class of errors may prevail in the church, which 
may somewhat modify the mental operations of Chris- 
tians. At another, peculiar forms of temptation may 
assail them which may require special caution and 
guarding in regard to some points of Christian character. 
At another, some form of allurement, or fascination may 
prevail in the world that shall tend to ensnare Chris- 
tians themselves, and lead them from the path of duty. 
In one country the national habits or manners may 
modify the character of piety in the church, and destroy 
its simplicity and fair proportion. In all these circum- 
stances, books of piety are demanded to meet the pe- 
culiar circumstances of each age and people. God 
usually raises up men, and qualifies them to meet the 
circumstances of their times, and to dwell especially on 
those points pertaining to the Christian character which 
it may be desirable especially to present. It is not true, 
however, that such writings have, of necessity, an 
ephemeral existence. They may imbody great prin- 
ciples which shall carry them down far beyond the oc- 
casion which called them forth ; or they may be ex- 
pressed in such beauty of language, and felicity of illus- 
tration, as to make them standard works in other times 
on the various points of Christian experience. They 
are, besides, important historical documents of the gen- 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

eral features of the piety of the times in which they 
were written, and will convey in the most clear and 
striking manner the nature of the dangers which assail 
the piety of the church. To refer to one single illus- 
tration. The effect of the French Revolution was to 
spread the opinions of infidelity extensively among the 
lower classes in England ; and even to threaten to un- 
settle, in the more elevated ranks of society, the attach- 
ment to the principles of Christianity. In this state of 
things, God was pleased eminently to qualify Mrs. 
Hannah More to adapt a series of striking and pungent 
tracts to the lower classes ; and to exhibit the principles 
of Christianity with uncommon purity and elegance of 
style to the more elevated ranks in the British empire. 
So well adapted were her talents to her times that she 
perhaps contributed more than any other individual to 
arrest the progress of unbelief, and to preserve respect 
for evangelical Christianity among the great. So well 
has her task been executed, also, that her works have 
become connected with the classical glory of the British 
nation, and will be transmitted to future times, not only 
as important historical documents in regard to the char- 
acter of her times, but as imbodying the great principles 
of vital Christianity adapted to every age. 

If a judgment may be formed from a perusal of the 
writings of the Rev. Mr. Philip, it would seem that one 
of his main purposes was to guard Christians against 
the evils of Antinomianism — evils which corrupt the 
church wherever they exist, and which, perhaps more 
than any other class of errors, destroy its vitality, and 
annihilate the power of true religion. In England, it is 
known that these evils have, in former times, extensively 
existed. In our own land they also abound ; and the 
consequence is every where seen in indifference to vital 
religion, in self-security, in opposition to revivals, and 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

in indifference to the efforts which are made for the 
world's conversion. Whatever tends to check or oppose 
these evils always does good ; and whoever, in the 
slightest degree, is enabled to resist and destroy the 
spirit of Antinomianism, does not live in vain. 

III. There are, in our own times, and in our own land, 
peculiar forms of evil which affect the purity of the 
church, and which extensively operate to render the 
piety of Christians less deep, and pure, and intelligent, 
and decided, than is required in the New Testament, 
and by the character of the times. There is a dispo- 
sition to cherish the hopes of eternal life on slender 
grounds, and on examination much less thorough, than 
were demanded in former times. There is an activity, 
a restlessness, an impatience in this age, which are 
greatly unfavourable to a profound and thorough, exam- 
ination of the heart. There is a degree of worldly- 
mindedness in the church, which tends to divert the at- 
tention from spiritual-mindedness, and from the self- 
denying duties of religion. Christians have become 
affected with the prevailing mania in pursuit of wealth 
to a degree which perhaps has been unequalled in other 
ages ; and amidst the general anxiety for wealth, and 
the general activity, they find little time for a close 
study of the Bible, or for an examination of their own 
hearts. There is much, as a consequence, that is un- 
settled, and unfixed in their views of religion itself. It 
is not looked at calmly, coolly, prayerfully, as it should 
be. The doctrines of the Bible are in danger of being 
overlooked ; and whatever cannot be turned to imme- 
diate action and account is regarded as of comparative- 
ly little value. 

Many other tendencies of these times might be no- 
ticed. But these will direct to the general character of 

all the dangers that threaten the piety of the church in 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

this age. They arise from the restless, active, busy, 
unsettled, and disorganizing character of this genera- 
tion — characteristics which, while they are doing won- 
ders in many respects, in subjecting a continent to the 
plough, and in elevating valleys, and levelling moun- 
tains, to construct canals and railroads, and in rearing, 
as if by enchantment, towns and cities in all the Western 
world, are at the same time threatening to undermine 
the old modes of thinking, and the principles which 
time had fixed as sure, and the laws on which the na- 
tional welfare depends, and the religion which alone can 
give purity and permanency to these institutions them- 
selves. 

He accomplishes an important purpose to the gener- 
ation who prepares books on Christian experience that 
shall be adapted to meet the evils which threaten the 
piety of the church. I regard the series of " Guides" 
here published as adapted, in an eminent manner, to 
accomplish this purpose. I should regard their exten- 
sive circulation as fitted to promote the spirituality of 
Christians, to make them acquainted with their own 
hearts, and with the power of the religion which they 
profess to love ; and as an indication of a disposition 
among Christians to examine deeply the foundations of 
their piety, and to cultivate communion with God. 

ALBERT BARNES. 

Philadelphia, October 21, 1336. 



CONTENTS. 



VOLUME I. 



CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE; 

OR, A GUIDE TO THE PERPLEXED. 

PAGE. 

I. The Work of the Law upon the Conscience 13 

II. The Work of the Spirit on the Heart 23 

III. The Witness of the Spirit 34 

IV. The Special Fruits of the Spirit 43 

V. Justification oy Faith 52 

VI. Fellowship with God and the Lamb 60 

VII. The hope of Salvation the best safeguard of the understanding 

against error, and of the heart against sin 69 

VIII. Devotional Self-examination 79 

IX. The Temptations and Fiery Darts of Satan 88 

X. The Fluctuations of Religious Feeling and Enjoyment 97 

XI. Causes of Backsliding 106 

XII. Sanctified Afflictions 115 

XIII. Experimental Maxims 122 



COMMUNION WITH GOD; 

ORj A GUIDE TO THE DEVOTIONAL. 

I. Access to God 127 

II. The Promises of God to the Prayerful, the Real Answers to Prayer. . 136 

III. The Affinity of Fervent Prayer and Saving Faith 146 

IV. Prayer, Proof of the Work and Witness of the Holy Spirit 160 

V. The Actual Presence and Help of the Spirit in Prayer 167 

VI. Walking in "the light," essential to Fellowship with God 175 

VH. A Devotional Spirit essential to the Enjoyment of the Promises 184 

VIII. Devotional Preparation for the Sanctuary 193 

IX. The Influence of Prayer upon peace of mind under the trials of life. . 202 

X. The Saviour's Devotional Habits 212 

XI. Communion with God in Affliction 218 

XII. Sacramental Communion with God and the Lamb 225 



ETERNITY REALIZED; 

OR, A GUIDE TO THE THOUGHTFUL. 

I. The Duty of Realizing Eternity 237 

n. The Possibility of Realizing Eternity 249 

III. The Excuses for not Realizing Eternity 258 

IV. Nominal Faith, from not Realizing Eternity 270 

V. Spiritual Declension, from not Realizing Eternity 280 

VI. Faith, believing unto Eternal Life 290 

11 



12 CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

VII. Eternity Realized in the Sanctuary 302 

VIII. Eternity Realized at the Sacrament 312 

IX. Eternity Realized at Home 323 

X. Christ, the Glory of Eternity 336 



VOLUME II. 
THE GOD OF GLORY; 

OR, A GUIDE TO THE DOUBTING. 

I. Abraham's Faith, an imitable example 3 

II. The General Character of Doubting 12 

III. The Real Character of Doubting 20 

IV. The Chief Cause of Doubting 29 

V. Goodness, the Glory of God 37 

VI. Jesus, the Brightness of the Father's Glory 47 

VII. Divine Counsels to the Doubting 66 

VIII. On Doubts about Prayer 78 

IX. Doubts from Indwelling Sin 96 



PLEASING GOD; 

OE, A GUIDE TO THE CONSCIENTIOUS. 

I. On the Fear of Displeasing God < 113 

II. On Repenting so as to Please God 126 

III. On Believing so as to Please God 135 

IV. On Pleasing God in Public Worebtp 194 

V. On Pleasing God in the Closet 166 

VI. On Pleasing God by Family Holiness 175 

vn. On Pleasing God by our Temper 186 

VIII. On Pleasing God by the Application of Money 196 

IX. On Pleasing God by Doing Good . 205 



REDEMPTION; 

OR, THE NEW SONG IN HEAVEN. 

I. Design of the New Song 223 

II. Apocalypse of the New Song 234 

III. Burden of the New Song . 240 

IV. Mysteries of the New Song 247 

V. Newness of the New Song 257 

VI. Providence and the New Song 274 

VII. Regal Priesthood of the New Song 284 

VIII. Doxology of the New Song 293 

IX. Perpetuity of the New Song Explained 305 

X. Relative Appeals of the New Song 316 

XI. Eternal Redemption 328 



OR A 

GUIDE TO THE PERPLEXED. 



CONTENTS 



Page. 

I. The Work of the Law upon the Conscience . . .13 
II. The Work of the Spirit on the Heart .... 23 

III. The Witness of the Spirit 34 

IV. The Special Fruits of the Spirit 43 

V. Justification by Faith 52 

VI. Fellowship with God and the Lamb .... 60 
VII. The hope of Salvation the best safeguard of the understand- 
ing against error, and of the heart against sin . . 69 

r III. Devotional Self-examination 79 

IX. The Temptations and Fiery Darts of Satan . . .88 

X. The Fluctuations of Religious Feeling and Enjoyment . 97 

XI. Causes of Backsliding ....... 106 

XII. Sanctified Afflictions 115 

XIII. Experimental Maxims 122 



No. I. 

THE WORK OP THE LAW UPON THE CONSCIENCE. 

" Without the Law, sin is dead." This is true, both of 
the Moral Law of Duty and of the Evangelical Law of 
Faith : for until their authority and spirituality are under- 
stood and felt, we do not understand the evil of sin, nor 
feel the power of it. Like Paul before his conversion, we 
vol. i. — 2 



14 THE WORK OF THE LAW 

are " alive, without the law :" not afraid of perishing, nor 
at all affected by the plagues of our hearts : not seriously 
displeased with ourselves, nor conscious of the displeasure 
of God, 

It is humiliating to look back on this state of mind. We 
acted and felt as if there had been no law at all, or as if 
there had been no more law than we ourselves chose to 
admit. We obeyed no farther than suited our own inclin- 
ations, and no longer than suited our own convenience. 
And yet, awful infatuation! we were neither afraid nor 
ashamed. Indeed, we never paused to consider seriously 
the divine law, or its sanctions ; but judged of right and 
wrong by public opinion. The world, not God, was our 
lawgiver ; and accordingly, when we did not incur blame 
for others, we suspected none from God ; and when any 
part of our conduct was condemned by others, we even 
took for granted that he would judge more charitably and 
mercifully than our neighbours did. Thus we had scarcely 
one scriptural idea of the nature or the authority of the 
Eternal law. Accordingly, whilst thus " without the law," 
or without a right sense of its obligations and sanctions, 
we were quite " alive ;" — both fearless and gay ; neither 
self-condemned in our own minds, nor aware that God had 
condemned us. " >Sm," also " was dead" whilst we were 
thus ignorant of the spirituality and strictness of the Divine 
law. Not, indeed, that sin itself was dead in our hearts : 
far from it ! But such were our slight views of the evil 
of sin, that it might have been dead, for any uneasiness or 
alarm it occasioned within us. It did not pain our hearts 
nor awaken our consciences : it left us at " ease" even " in 
Zion," and threw no cloud on our spirits or our prospects. 
We looked as safe and smiling as if we had had no sin, or 
as if sin involved no punishment. Thus sin was virtually 
lead, whilst we were inattentive to the demands and 
denunciations of the Divine law, 

Nor was this all. Whilst without scriptural views of 
Lie holiness and justness of the law, we were not aware of 



UPON THE CONSCIENCE. 15 

the power which sin had over us, nor of the strength of our 
love to it. The evil principles of our hearts did not show 
all their evil, because we laid no powerful constraint upon 
them. We had never tried to be very good, and therefore 
we did not discover that our hearts were very bad. In- 
deed, we thought better of our hearts than of our lives. 
The reason is obvious : we let our hearts have their own 
way, and allowed them to think and feel as they were in- 
clined. Whatever religious restraints we laid upon our 
lips or our hands, Ave imposed none upon our thoughts : 
they might range and revel as they chose, if they only 
kept clear of painful and spiritual subjects. It was, there- 
fore, unlikely — indeed impossible — that our hearts should 
manifest all their enmity to the laws of God, whilst these 
laws were not applied to them. We did not set them to 
try to love or fear God : we did not call on them to consid- 
er divine and eternal things seriously : we gave them no 
tasks in devotion, meditation, or self-control. In a word, 
we did not at all trouble our hearts to be religious ; and 
therefore they did not trouble us by any great opposition to 
the few religious duties we performed : but let us have our 
own way, so long as they had their own way. And this 
was one chief reason why our hopes of final safety kept 
"alive" whilst we were without the law : we thought well 
of our hearts, because they offered no marked opposition to 
the morals or the religion which we attended to. We at- 
tended to no more than was barely sufficient to save us 
from being called irreligious ; and, the 'pride of the heart 
allowed that degree of duty at all times ; and on solemn 
occasions, a little more : whereas if we had tried to set 
our hearts to the serious consideration and the spiritual dis- 
charge of all duty, they would have soon shown that they 
were " hearts of stone." 

This is, indeed, a humiliating review of our former habits 
of acting and judging ; but it is well both to take it, and to 
declare it, because the declaration of it may prove useful 
to others. To ourselves such a retrospect must be useful, 



16 THE WORK OP THE LAW 

were it only to enable us to discern the change which has 
taken place in our views and feelings on this subject. 

Now we can truly say, that however we were alive, or 
sin dead, whilst we did not allow the law to speak to our 
consciences, " when the commandment came, sin revived, and 
we died" Our ill-grounded hopes of heaven, and our good 
opinion of our own hearts, fell dead before the scriptural 
fact, that the Eternal law demands and admits nothing 
short of perfect obedience. The solemn denunciation, 
" Cursed is he who continueth not in all things written in 
the booh of the law, to do them" awoke us at once to our 
guilt and danger ; and the declaration, that " by the deeds 
of the law, no flesh living shall be justified" confounded us. 
We w T ere thus reduced to a complete dilemma : we saw 
that we had not kept the law ; we felt that we were unable 
to keep it perfectly ; and now we understood that, however 
well we might keep it in future, the obedience would not 
atone for our past sins. 

We know not what to do, or what to think, when these 
solemn facts flash upon our minds ; they were so unlike all 
our former opinions. We had, indeed, heard and read 
them, but they had not struck nor startled us before. How 
could they ? We had never seriously weighed their im- 
port, nor suspected their application to ourselves ; and now 
that we saw both, it seemed too late to remedy our mis- 
takes. For what could we do with a law which condemn- 
ed us for past sins, and would not allow present duty to 
make up for them? We were willing to reform, and to 
lead a new life ; but what was the use of doing so, if the 
change could not save our souls ? Thus there seemed no 
encouragement to do better, and no benefit to be derived 
from it. 

Our case now began to wear a hopeless aspect, and 
would have been held desperate, had not our floating ideas 
about the mercy of God, and the merits of Jesus Christ, 
kept despair in check. We had never indeed examined, 
with any care, the nature of divine mercy, or the design of 



UPON THE CONSCIENCE. 17 

the Saviour's death ; but we took for granted that, of course, 
they were intended to help us in some way, and no way, 
that we knew of then, seemed so likely as their making up 
for our defects, if we did our best to live well in future. 
Accordingly, under this hope, we began to reform, and 
tried to repent. We determined to confess, very humbly, 
all our past sins and shortcomings, and to be very devout 
in our religious duties. But, lo ! to our surprise, our hearts 
would not fix nor feel ! They wandered in prayer, and 
wavered in all their pious resolutions — they invented ex- 
cuses for the neglect of some duties, and soon tired of 
others. This we had not looked for ; but, indeed, calcula- 
ted that our hearts would follow up all the dictates of our 
consciences. What was to be done ? We determined to 
master this aversion to spiritual things ; to force them to be 
penitent and devotional. But all would not do ; they actu- 
ally became worse, instead of better, the more we tried to 
subject them to the authority of the Divine law. 

Thus it was ; " when the commandment came" home to 
our hearts, demanding sincerity and spirituality, " sin re- 
vived." 

The principles of the carnal mind flew up in arms when 
the power of godliness attempted to sit down on the throne 
of the heart. Then our pride objected to the humility, our 
sloth to the diligence, our passions to the self-denial, and 
our tempers to the strictness, of true holiness : the whole 
soul shrunk back from the " yoke" of Christ, or tried to 
break it ; and the real, though secret, language of the heart 
was,, " we will not have this man to reign over us" Thus 
we found that our hearts were as unwilling to obey Christ 
fully as they were unable to keep the law perfectly : and 
therefore the Gospel (as we understood it then, and as some 
understand it now) left us as hopeless as the law had done. 
And in this way : how could the Saviour be expected to 
make up the defects of a heartless piety 1 We felt that 
our religion was all forced work, and likely to continue to 
be so ; and as our opinion of the work of Christ was, that 

2* 



18 THE WORK OF THE LAW 

he only helped out those who did their best : of course, we 
had nothing to expect from him, because nothing to give 
him, now that our hearts seemed to grow worse instead of 
better. In a word, we could make nothing of the law or 
Gospel, but despair or discouragement in our own case. 
The law had condemned us, and it seemed inevitable that 
the Gospel would do so too. 

In this condition — convinced of the importance of per- 
sonal religion, but feeling it almost impossible to be reli- 
gious ; alive to the value of the soul, but seeing no way of 
securing its salvation — many are kept on the rack of sus* 
pense, and some on the rack of utter despair. And when 
such distress of soul falls in, as it frequently does, with a, 
nervous frame of body, or a melancholy cast of mind, the 
suffering is dreadful — indeed dangerous; for the tendency 
of such minds is to indulge hopelessness. Accordingly 
some do nothing else but " write bitter things" against 
themselves ; setting themselves down as certainly lost be- 
yond redemption, and interpreting all their agonizing feel- 
ings into marks of reprobation. Under this horrid persua- 
sion, they give up prayer entirely, and feel inclined to have 
done with the word of God, and the house of God for ever. 
Indeed, they would do so, were it not that they cannot 
abandon either for any length of time. There is some 
fascination about the means of grace, which draws even 
the hopeless back to them, in spite of despair, sooner or 
later. They may say that they look for no good from any 
means, and that they are sure to find none ; but still they 
do "look again" to the temple of God, and cannot tear 
themselves finally away from it, nor utterly forget that sal- 
vation which seems lost to them. The truth is, despair is 
not natural to the human mind ; and therefore, although Jits 
of it maybe indulged frequently, the intervals of it arcoften 
employed in re-examining the grounds of hope, and ad- 
mitting a " may be," or " peradventure," of salvation. The 
question, " Who can tell ?" occasionally leads away the 
thoughts from the dark side to the bright side of it,, and 



UPON THE CONSCIENCE. 19 

fixes them there long enough to brighten them a little. 
And although it seems, to the soul, almost sinful to admit 
the faintest ray of hope in its own case, and almost a duty 
to banish it at once ; still it is admitted and retained from 
time to time, until it gradually leads to the resolution of in- 
quiring more fully into the way of salvation. 

Now, when this is the case, and the mind is willing to 
examine the matter calmly and deliberately, it is well to 
begin with the example of Paul : for God showed mercy to 
him, that he might show in him " a pattern of all long-suf- 
fering to them who should afterward believe." Besides, 
as the Law has had the same effect on you which it had on 
Paul, it certainly is not impossible that the Gospel should 
have the same effect on you that it had on him. Now, you 
can truly say with him in the former case, " I was alive 
without the law once ; but when the commandment came, 
sin revived, and I died." Yes ; you are sure that you are 
dead to all hope of being saved by the law now, and that 
your hearts are far worse than you could have imagined 
them to be. Well ; how did Paul act and judge, when by 
the law he became dead to the law 1 The shock which 
thus shook his self-righteousness to death, must, you are 
aware, have been tremendous ! Accordingly, " he was 
three days without sight, and neither did eat nor drink." 
But he prayed ! Yes : neither his guilt nor his misery 
led him to restrain prayer before God ; nor did they pre- 
vent him from believing the Gospel when it was preached 
unto him by Ananias. He gave " all acceptation" to the 
" saying," as soon as he knew it to be "a faithful saying, 
that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." 
Although he felt, himself to be the " chief" of sinners, he 
did not hesitate to believe in Christ for his own salvation. 
He believed on Christ, that he might be justified by the 
faith of Christ : and being justified by faith, he had peace 
with God. Now this was acting wisely ; and thus should 
all act, whose hopes of salvation by the works of the law, 
have been slain by the curse of the law. 



20 THE WORK OF THE LAW 

If, however, Paul's case be thought too peculiar to ar- 
gue from — one thing is certain ; we have the same Gospel, 
in the Scriptures, which relieved his mind, and became the 
power of God unto his salvation. Nor is this all : we have 
also the command of God to believe it for our own salva- 
tion ; and his express assurance, that believing it will save 
us. If, then, all our old hopes are crushed to death by the 
law, why not embrace the new and better hopes which this 
glorious gospel sets before us ? 

" Why not?" some are ready to say, "they are not in- 
tended for me : they belong to the penitent ; and my heart 
is hard ! — they belong to the humble ; and my heart is 
proud! — they belong to the believing; and I cannot be- 
lieve !" 

Cannot believe ! Why ? What is it that you cannot be- 
lieve 1 Let us see what it really is ; and why you cannot 
believe it : for it may be that it is something not necessary 
to be believed at present ; yea, it may be something which 
is not your duty to believe just now. Do not, therefore, 
fly off from the Gospel by a hasty conclusion that you can- 
not believe it : you do not seem to understand it yet ; and, 
therefore, the difficulty of believing it may not be so great 
as you imagine — at least, not of the same kind as you sup- 
pose. 

What, then, is it that you cannot believe ? Yes ! what is 
it 1 For there is reason to suspect that it is either some- 
thing which it is not necessary to begin with ; or some- 
thing which ought not to be believed, until " the truth" is 
believed, with which God has graciously connected the 
promise of salvation. 

The answers to these pointed questions w r ill, of course, 
vary according to the degree in which those who are inter- 
ested in them are acquainted with the current opinions and 
perplexities of serious people. Hence some will say, 
" Ah ! but I cannot believe that Christ died for me" Now, 
be not startled when I say, " No wonder ! for how could 
you believe what is not revealed ?" And it is not revealed 



UPON THE CONSCIENCE. 21 

that he died for you individually. What is revealed is, that 
he died for sinners ; and that you do not disbelieve. But 
you say, " As I cannot regard myself as one of the sinners 
for whom Christ died, my believing that he died for sin- 
ners can do me no good." Why not ? Who told you that 
the belief of this truth could do you no good 1 Whoever 
told you so, the Scriptures did not. They say, (whatever 
you think,) that whosoever believeth Jesus Christ to be the 
Son of God, and the only Saviour, shall never perish, but 
have eternal life : yea, they warrant every one who cor- 
dially believes these facts concerning Christ, to believe also 
that Christ loved him, and gave himself for him. 

This meets your case, if you understood it : but you are 
prepared to start objections which will prove that you do 
not understand it clearly yet. " Why," you say, " if merely 
believing that Christ is the Son of God, and the only Sav- 
iour, were enough to warrant me to regard myself as a 
believer, it would follow that I was one even whilst I was 
careless ; for even then I believed all this." Not exactly; 
for you could not have continued careless, if you had really 
believed it all. However, if you will call your former opin- 
ion of Christ believing ; it was certainly not believing, be- 
cause God had spoken : for it is evident from your own 
confessions, that, whilst you were careless, you did not 
examine the law or the Gospel. If, therefore, your opin- 
ions of the person and work of Christ happened to be, 
upon the whole, scriptural, they were so without your 
knowledge ; for if you never sat down to form them by the 
word of God, it is not owing to your care that they were at 
all correct. Besides, you did not believe what you did, on 
the Divine authority ; but because others believed it. Be 
honest : you just believed what you found current in the 
world ; and would have believed what others did, if it had 
been the very opposite of what it is. Now, however, this 
falling in with public opinion may be called believing, it 
certainly is not believing God : and therefore ought not to 
be appealed to in reply to the scriptural fact, that the cor- 



22 THE WORK OP THE LAW 

dial belief of the Divine testimony concerning the person 
and work of Christ, is saving faith. 

Besides, that testimony is revealed, that it may be be- 
lieved for the salvation of the soul ; and, for that purpose, 
you did not, you could not, believe it, whilst you were 
careless. How could you ? Whilst you were without the 
law in your conscience, your hopes were alive without the 
Gospel. You felt in no danger of perishing : you took for 
granted that you were sure of salvation at last, by some 
means. Whatever, therefore, you believed about Christ 
then, it was not for salvation. Accordingly, you never 
thought so, nor at all imagined that your opinions about the 
Saviour had any connexion with your supposed safety. 
What you relied on then, was the good you were doing, or 
intended to do ; and not any thing that Christ had done. 
Indeed, even now you do not see much beneficial connex- 
ion between believing and salvation ; — I mean, you are 
quite at a loss to comprehend how the belief of the Gospel 
can secure an interest in the salvation of God. On all 
these accounts, therefore, it is wrong, and can only increase 
your perplexity, to call your former opinions about Christ 
belief. They were like your former opinions about the 
law — too vague and superficial to affect your heart. 

But now, your belief of the Divine law will enable you 
to understand what it is to believe the Gospel aright, and to 
see how faith in Christ brings both hope and holiness into 
the mind. You know and feel that you now believe the 
law of God : of that you have no doubt ; and you are 
equally convinced that you neither believed nor understood 
it, whilst you were careless. And were any one to tell you 
now, that he had often heard you call it a holy and just law, 
long before you began to think seriously ; and were he to 
argue from this that you believed it then, you would say at 
once, " Ah ! these were mere words of course ; for I never 
weighed their meaning : I just called the law what others 
called it ; and if they understood what they said, I did not. 
If ever I thought of its holiness, it did not convince me that 



UPON THE CONSCIENCE. 23 

nothing short of perfect obedience could meet its demands ; 
and whatever I thought of its justice, I did not believe that 
I was condemned by it. Now, as this is the truth of God 
concerning his law, it is self-evident that I did not believe, 
at that time, His testimony on the subject. Indeed, such 
was my unbelief then, that I was in reality ' without the 
law.'" 

Thus you would reply, to any one who attempted to con- 
found your former professions with your present belief of 
the law. Well ; it is your present belief of it that creates 
your present fear of perishing, and keeps up the conviction 
in your mind that you cannot save yourself. Just because 
you believe that the eternal law says that you are " con- 
demned already" for what you have done against it, you 
are afraid ; and well you may ! But now, the everlasting 
Gospel declares as plainly what Christ has done to satisfy 
the law, and to redeem sinners from its curse ; and it is 
just as true that he died to redeem sinners from its curse, 
as that you are under its curse. Seeing, therefore, you 
believe the truth which condemns, why not believe the truth 
which can save you ? You need salvation* — you wish for 
it ; and would give worlds to obtain eternal redemption from 
the curse : well ; it is offered and promised to you, if you 
will believe in Christ for it ; for " it is of faith, that it might 
be of grace." 



No. II. 

THE WORK OF THE SPIRIT ON THE HEART. 

There is something so very grand and solemn in the 
bare idea of being " taught" by the Holy Spirit— 8 ' led" by 
Him — "quickened" by Him— -" born again" by Him! — ■ 
that we can hardly wonder that we should feel both afraid 
and unable, at first, to believe that any change for the 



24 THE WORK OP THE SPIRIT 

better, which we have experienced under the Gospel, 
amounts to the work of the Spirit. For to believe this, in 
our own case, would be to admit that we are really con- 
verted to God, and thus already the children of God, and 
heirs of the kingdom of heaven. But some, although no 
longer what they were in heart or habits, are not prepared 
to draw this conclusion in their own case. Indeed, it is 
not at once, nor is it often soon, that any one admits " the 
full assurance of hope" in his own case. It more fre- 
quently happens that those who are most renewed in the 
spirit of their mind, are most afraid to regard themselves 
as " born again." It is with the serious, in regard to the 
regeneration of their souls, as with parents, in regard to 
the recovery of an only child from a dangerous illness : 
the physician may pronounce it out of danger, and the 
symptoms of convalescence may be self-evident to every 
one but them ; and they may not actually dispute the gene- 
ral opinion ; but having again and again given up their dar- 
ling, and felt sure that it could not recover, they are afraid 
of nattering themselves, and ' slow of heart' to believe that 
any signs, however good, are proofs of safety. So it is 
with those of us who are feelingly alive to the value of our 
souls, and intent on their salvation : they may be really 
" passing from death to life ;" but we are so afraid of that 
" death," and so affected by that " life," that we can hardly 
believe it possible that our souls can escape the former, or 
obtain the latter. It seems too good news to be true — too 
bright a hope to be admitted in our own case. Even when 
we try to admit it, or venture to whisper to ourselves, that 
surely a divine change is taking place within us, the 
thought creates such a flow of feeling, and flutter of spirits, 
that we know not what to think : and, being equally afraid 
of presuming or despairing, we come to no final determina- 
tion ; but wait to see how the good work will go on. 

Now, it is well to be cautious upon such a question as 
" the renewing of the Holy Ghost" for all changes of feel- 
ing are not Divine changes. Indeed, there is but too much 



ON THE HE ART. 25 

reason to fear that many conclude too hastily in their own 
favour, and mistake conviction for conversion. But whilst 
this melancholy fact should teach us prudence, it should 
not be allowed to divert us from the question of our own 
regeneration: that point can be ascertained and settled 
upon scriptural grounds ; and therefore it ought no more to 
be hushed up, than to be hurried over. We are " born 
again," or we are not; and, as uncertainty on the point can 
do no good, it is both our duty and interest to bring the 
matter to an issue. 

Perhaps the best way of doing this is, to reconsider the 
necessity of experiencing the work of the Spirit, in order 
that we may see clearly the consequences of being without 
the Spirit. " Now, if any man have not the Spirit of 
Christ, he is none of his." None of his ! Solemn fact ! 
None of His ! Whose, then, is he who has not the Spirit ? 
The law says, " He is my prisoner, and under the curse, 
whether he believe it or not." Satan says, " He is my 
victim, whether he feel it or not." The world says, " He 
is my slave, whether he own it or not." Dreadful condi- 
tion ! If I am not Christ's, I am under the curse of the 
Eternal law, and in the power of Satan ! And I am not 
Christ's, if I am a stranger to the work of the Spirit. 

The moment we reflect thus, we feel that the question, 
" Have ye received the Holy Ghost V is one which 
should not be left unsettled from year to year, nor even 
from month to month. Let us, therefore, put it to ourselves, 
now, and in connexion with the solemn assurance that we 
are not Christ's, if we have not experienced something of 
the work of his Spirit. And if, in this awful connexion, 
there is some danger of admitting almost any thing to be 
" the fruits of the Spirit," rather than admit that we are in 
the power of Satan, let us pray earnestly that we may not 
be tempted to self-deception : but, at the same time, let not 
that danger prevent nor intimidate us from going into the 
question ; for, although a solemn one, it is also a simple 
one, if it be kept close to the word of God, and not mixed 

3 



26 THE WORK OF THE SPIRIT 

up with the extravagant or extraneous things, which the 
fancy of some, and the philosophy of others, have heaped 
around the work of the Holy Spirit. 

Now, one thing equally simple and certain is, that the 
office of the Holy Spirit is to glorify the Saviour — to ex- 
alt and endear him in our estimation. And whatever be 
the nature or the degree of the Spirit's operations in the 
mind, the design of them is to render Christ " precious" to 
the soul. If, therefore, the Saviour is become altogether 
lovely in our estimation, and his atonement altogether dear 
to us — dear, because of its glory, fulness, freeness, and 
holy influence — we are not altogether strangers to the work 
of the Spirit. Nor, if the Saviour is all and all, in all the 
hope we cherish, is it of any real consequence whether or 
not the way in which he became so to our souls, is the same 
by which others have been led to love him and rely on him. 
The real question is not, How was I brought to the Saviour ? 
but, am I brought to him for pardon and sanctification ? 
Some have been brought suddenly, and others gradually, to 
the Cross for refuge ; some have been driven to it by the 
terrors of the law, and others drawn by the tenderness 
of the Lord ; some were brought very early in life, and 
others very late : but as they are all brought to rely on 
Christ for a holy salvation, the difference of the time and 
manner of bringing them does not affect their safety. 
Neither the time nor the manner of bringing sinners to 
Christ, but their being brought to Christ, is the cause of 
their salvation. Paul's conversion was sudden and mi- 
raculous ; Timothy's was gradual, and the effect of an 
early religious education : but Timothy was as safe as 
Paul, when like Paul, he laid hold on Christ for eternal 
life. And if the heart of the Philippian jailer, instead of 
being as it were torn open by terror, had been "opened" as 
the heart of Lydia was, gently as a rose-bud is unfolded 
by the sun, the jailer would have found the same welcome 
at the Cross which she did. In like manner, had Lydia 
been plunged into despair, as he was at first, it would have 



ON THE HEART. 27 

availed her nothing, if she had not, like him, fled to Christ. 
It was, therefore, not that in which their experience dif- 
fered, but that in which it agreed — their reliance on Christ 
alone, which secured their welcome and safety. Paul 
understood this ; and, accordingly, he did not reckon Lydia 
nor Timothy less truly converted to God, than the jailer or 
himself ; nor did they themselves doubt their own conver- 
sion, because the manner of it differed from his. In com- 
mon with all saints, they were glorying only in the Cross 
of Christ ; and as they knew that to be the only refuge, 
and a certain refuge to all who fled to it, they kept to it 
without any reference to the way in which others were 
brought to it. 

Now, as there was such a marked and immense differ- 
ence in the manner of their conversion, similar differences 
may be expected still ; and, as in their case, without at all 
invalidating the reality of the conversion itself. For, in 
our case also, the real question of experience on this point 
is — Is Christ become all my salvation ? and not, Have I 
felt all the alarm and horror of soul which some have ex- 
perienced ? For, if I have felt that, whatever it was, which 
has led me to commit my soul to Christ for salvation, I 
could have done nothing more than this, whatever I had 
felt. They have done nothing more, who have suffered 
most : and although, of course, the terrors of conscience 
led them to commit their souls into the hands of Christ 
with more promptness and solemnity than I did ; still, if I 
did it with sincerity, my welcome was equally sure ; for, 
after all, it is the sincerity of faith in Him, and not the 
strength of feeling, which ensures a welcome ; and what 
has been done deliberately, is quite as likely to be sincere 
as what is done under alarm. In both cases, it is the sin- 
cerity of the application to Christ, which constitutes it faith 
in him. 

But some are ready to say, " Alas ! I am not sure that I 
was sincere in committing my soul to Christ for salvation." 
Now, certainly, if you are not sure of your own sincerity, 



ZO THE WORK OF THE SPIRIT 

no one else can prove it to you. The utmost that any one 
can do to help you on this point, is to show you what sin- 
cerity is : and really that seems unnecessary. For if you 
did not intend to be insincere when you applied to the Sav- 
iour, and if you do not wish to be insincere, nor design to 
be so, why should you suspect your sincerity ? No one 
can be a hypocrite, or a pretender, without designing to be 
so : and therefore, most certainly you are not so, if you 
dislike to be so. 

Thus far I have confined your attention to the first sa- 
ving result of the work of the Holy Spirit on the mind — 
which is to render the Saviour " precious" in our esteem. 
Lest, however, this view of his work should be too general 
let us examine the Saviour's own account of the matter. 
Now, when he gave a detailed account of the work of the 
Spirit, he said, 

First, " He shall convince the world of sin : of sin, 
because they believe not on me." Well, what do you 
think of unbelief 1 what is your opinion of it ? I do not 
mean, of its abstract nature ; nor do I refer to infidelity, or 
its twin " wandering star," Unitarianism ; but to the practi- 
cal unbelief which we manifested whilst we were careless 
or heartless in religion. Now, what do you think of the 
time when you lived as if there had been no Saviour, or as 
if you had been in no want of a Saviour 1 That was unbe- 
lief ! What do you think of the temper which inclined 
you to care nothing about an interest in Christ, and kept 
you from considering your need of it ? That was unbelief! 
What do you think of those habits and pursuits which were 
allowed to banish all serious concern about the salvation 
of your soul ? What is your present opinion and feeling, 
in regard to all this unbelieving treatment of the Saviour ? 
Should you like to renew it, and to return to your old state 
of mind ? No ! you are as much shocked at the idea of 
going back to such feelings and habits, as you are ashamed 
of having ever felt and acted such a part. Your long and 
base neglect of the Lamb of God pains and humbles you 



ON THE HEART. 29 

whenever you think of it; — it was so unreasonable, unwise, 
and unkind ! You both wonder and weep that you could 
have lived as if Emmanuel had never died ! This sin sits 
heavier at times, on your conscience, than any other; 
and makes you feel and confess that the Saviour might 
justly reject you. 

Well, if this be your experience on the subject of unbe- 
lief, what is all this but conviction of the " sin" of unbelief; 
and that, too, by the work of the Holy Spirit 1 For what 
else could have brought you to judge and feel thus ? The 
seeds of these proper sentiments and feelings were not 
born with you : they must therefore have been sown in 
your hearts ; and, as the hand of nature never contained 
them, they must have been sown by the hand of the Spirit. 
For, as Satan would not have led you into this new state 
of mind, and as the world could not, and you did not lead 
yourself into it, it must be from God. Yes, from God — 
however unable you may be to trace its connexion with 
likely means. The means, whatever they were, were but 
means ; and have not produced the same effect upon all 
who were under the same means as yourself. Besides, if 
this change in your views and feelings be not, at least, the 
beginning of a Divine change, what would be so 1 It is 
self-evident, that no change would be saving, which did 
not include shame and sorrow for having neglected the Sav- 
iour. Not to be convinced of the sin of unbelief, would 
falsify any and all other appearances of regeneration. If, 
therefore, you have experienced that, without which all 
other experience would be useless, it is certain that you 
are not altogether without the Spirit. 

Nor is this all. You may not have observed it, but, on 
examination, you will find that all your most solid and sol- 
emn convictions of the evil and demerit of sin in general, 
have been formed or confirmed by what the Spirit has 
shown you of the Saviour. For it is with the disease of 
the soul, as with some of the diseases of the body — it is 
the remedy which discovers its real nature and extent. A 
3* 



30 THE WORK OF THE SPIRIT 

man may feel rather unwell, and yet not be alarmed by his 
symptoms ; but if a judicious physician prescribe, after ex- 
amining them, a remedy which is known to be resorted to 
only in desperate cases, it is the remedy, not the symptoms 
as the patient judged of them, that opens his eyes to his 
danger. He thought himself ill enough to require some- 
thing ; but when he found that the last resource of medical 
skill was the only thing which could save his life, then his 
disorder appeared to him in a new light, and awoke all his 
fears. Now, so it is with the soul : it is the remedy for 
the guilt and defilement of sin, which shows the evil and 
danger of sin. We may have a general conviction of both, 
by observing how God abhors sin, and threatens to punish 
it ; and we may see, with some clearness and alarm, that 
we are in some danger from our sins ; and we may feel 
persuaded that it is necessary to try something to prevent 
sin from being our ruin : but it is not until we see that " the 
blood of Christ''' is the only remedy, that we either under- 
stand or feel aright the evil of sin. It is, therefore, chiefly 
and emphatically by presenting the Lamb slain to the mind, 
that the Holy Spirit effectually convinces of sin. And this 
is conviction ! For, what a sight it gives us of our case 
and character ! Yes ; of our case, even if our character 
stand high by comparison. For, as there is only one Sav- 
iour, and he the incarnate Son of God ; and only one way 
of salvation, and it by faith in the blood of that Son ; what 
must sin be, seeing that none but Emmanuel could atone 
for it, and he only by dying for it ! Whatever, therefore, 
I may think of my character, my case is this — as a sinner, 
there is nothing between me and hell but the blood of 
Christ. I may not have done so much evil as some ; but 
as there is no pardon for any sin but through the Cross, I 
must be lost, in common with the chief of sinners, unless I 
obtain the remission of my sins through his blood. 

This solemn consideration sends through all the soul 
the solemn conviction, that sin is an evil which we neither 
understand clearly nor feel deeply, until we really believe 



ON THE HEART. 31 

the divine testimony concerning the person and work of 
Christ. Whilst we did not believe on him, that we might 
be justified by him, our views of the evil and danger of sin 
were slight and partial ; but now that we feel that we must 
look to the Lamb slain for all our salvation, or perish for 
ever, we cannot think lightly of sin. Well, what is this 
conviction of sin, but the work of the Holy Spirit in the 
mind 1 Yes ! the first work which he is appointed to by 
the constitution of the covenant! And yet, even this con- 
viction of sin some are discouraged by, and actually inter- 
pret it into a token of Divine anger, although it be in itself 
a token of Divine love, a first-fruit of the Spirit, and a mark 
of saving faith too : for no one could think thus of sin, who 
did not believe Christ to be, and to have done what God 
testifies. 

But I will not hurry on this conclusion too fast. It is 
desirable to meet distinctly the case of those who, by a 
strange mistake, imagine that their anguish of soul, on ac- 
count of sin, is inflicted upon them in anger, and arises from 
God having left them to suffer the consequences of sin. 
Some have even regarded this anguish as a foretaste of 
hell on earth. But consider — was it in anger that God let 
loose upon the Jews, at Pentecost, all the stings of con- 
science, until they were "cut to the heart;" literally "sawn 
asunder V Was it intended as a forerunner of " the worm 
that dieth not," when the arrows of the Almighty drank up 
their spirit ? No ! they, perhaps, thought so for a time, 
and during all that part of Peter's sermon which was like 
the thunder, the earthquake, and the whirlwind at Horeb ; 
but when " the small still voice" of mercy, through the 
blood of the Saviour whom they had murdered, broke like 
the music of heaven on their ears — then they saw, that God 
wounded only that he might effectually heal them ; and cast 
them down that he might lift them up, for ever. Now, why 
should it not be so in the case of those who like them, have 
been, as it were " sawn asunder" b^y self-condemnation ? 
You are not guiltier than the murderers of the Lord of glory; 



32 THE WORK OF THE SPIRIT 

and therefore, although that fact gives you no claim upon mer- 
cy, it proves that your guilt, whatever it is, is not beyond the 
reach of mercy. Indeed, God could have done nothing 
better for you, than thus to convict you of sin : for, is it 
not an answer to your own prayers ? You have prayed 
that he would make you sensible of your need of a Sav- 
iour, and empty you of self-dependance : and, therefore, 
whatever you meant by this, your convictions of sin form 
the best answer to your supplications. " The whole" 
know not " their need of a physician ;" and, as God has 
made you to feel your sickness, the fair interpretation is, 
that he desires and designs to heal you. Do not, therefore, 
recklessly or rashly conclude that you are given up, be- 
cause you are thus given over, for a time, to the terrors of 
the law, and the stings of conscience. God is thus, for 
any thing you know to the contrary, bringing you, "through 
fire and water, to a wealthy place." 

Having thus seen that the first work of the Spirit is to 
convince of sin, and that the experience we have just re- 
viewed is conviction of sin ; let us now observe the second 
part of the work of the Spirit, and examine what you have 
felt of it. " He shall convince of righteousness, because I 
go to my Father.'''' At the first sight of these words, you 
may be ready to say, " I am sure that I have experienced 
nothing of this ; for I do not know even what it means." 
Perhaps not ; and yet you may be familiar with the senti- 
ment itself, although this mode of expressing it be mysteri- 
ous to you. In fact, you must not be startled by words : 
for, as you have only begun to acquaint yourself with the 
Scriptures, it is only what might be expected, if you meet 
with expressions which are not, at once, plain to you. 
They are, however, quite plain to those who have consid- 
ered them longer ; and the meaning of this one is not un- 
known to you, if you understand any thing of the Gospel. 
Accordingly, I am not all afraid of really discouraging or per- 
plexing you, when I affirm, that if you are not convinced of 
" righteousness," you " have not the Spirit of Christ ;" for, 



ON THE HEART. 33 

are you not fully convinced that Christ could not have gone 
back to the Father, if his obedience and death had not 
wrought out and brought in an " everlasting righteousness V 
You are persuaded and sure that God would not have raised 
him from the dead, nor exalted him to the throne, if he had 
failed to satisfy law or justice. You therefore regard the 
resurrection and ascension of the Saviour as proofs of the 
perfection and acceptance of his atonement. Accordingly, 
were any one to insinuate that he had not magnified the 
law and satisfied the justice of God, you would appeal with 
triumph to the fact, that he is now in the midst of the 
throne, as a lamb that had been slain : and say, that he 
could not be there, if he had not " finished" his mediatorial 
work here. Well, this is the real and full meaning of the 
expression, " of righteousness, because I goto my Father." 
The Saviour's return to the bosom of the Father demon- 
strates that both his person and works were really what he 
had declared them to be, divine and atoning. Besides, you 
are persuaded in your inmost soul that nothing but the 
righteousness of Christ can justify you before God ; and 
that it can do so : and accordingly you have adopted the 
sentiment of Paul, and " count all things but loss, that you 
may be found not in your own righteousness, but in the 
righteousness" of Christ. Well, this was a proof in Paul's 
case, that he was convinced " of righteousness" by the 
Spirit : why then should not a similar sentiment prove the 
same fact in your case ? Paul may have understood it 
better, and felt it more deeply, than you do at present ; but 
if it has withdrawn all your confidence from your own 
righteousness, and convinced you that nothing can save you 
but the righteousness of Christ, this is the substance of 
Paul's experience on the subject. 



34 THE WITNESS 

No. III. 

THE WITNESS OF THE SPIRIT. 

It is as true, that if any man have the Spirit of Christ, 
he is Christ's, as that " if any man have not the Spirit of 
Christ he is none of his :" " for as many as are led by the 
Spirit of God, they are the sons of God ;"t— " and if chil- 
dren then heirs ; heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ." 
It is therefore the duty of all who have been " led by the 
Spirit," to believe this in their own case, because they are 
warranted and welcomed to do so, and cannot until they 
believe it in their own case, experience " the witness" or 
" the seal" of the Spirit. Indeed " the fruits of the Spirit" 
will be both few and imperfect until it is believed. 

Accordingly, many who can hardly doubt that they have 
experienced something of the work of the Spirit on their 
minds, are afraid to regard it as that " good work" which he 
will " carry on ;" because they do not feel the witness of 
the Spirit, nor the joy of the Holy Ghost. Hence the 
question which they put to themselves so often — " How can 
I think that what I have experienced is the saving work of 
the Spirit, seeing that I feel nothing of the witness, the 
seal, or the earnest of the Spirit 1 The fruit of the Spirit 
is joy and peace, as well as ' temperance and goodness ;' 
and as I have no joy, and but little peace, it is not likely 
that all the change which I have undergone is merely the 
effect of the common operations of the Spirit, instead of 
being the effects of his special influences ?" Thus many 
of the truly serious argue in their own case. 

In order to clear up this matter, the first thing to be 
settled, is, evidently, whether the change of views, feelings, 
and habits, which you have experienced, is a divine change. 
Now it must be either divine or human. But if you, as a 
self-condemned and perishing sinner, are looking to Christ 
alone for a holy salvation ; if you are willing and desirous 



OF THE SPIRIT. 35 

to be an entire and eternal debtor to Him, and to be made 
like Him in heart and character, this change from your 
former state of mind cannot be a human change, because 
no human means could produce it. Nothing human ever 
brought any soul to feel that there was nothing between it 
and perishing, but the blood of Christ. All the tendencies 
of nature are against this conviction. Wherever, therefore, 
it is the conviction of the mind, it is the special work of 
the Holy Spirit. Now, if this be the change of mind 
which you have undergone, it is, unquestionably, a divine 
change ; and, as unquestionably, it is your duty to believe it 
to be so. You may say, " I am afraid to conclude that I have 
been led by the Spirit :" but if you are come to the word 
of God for counsel — to the mercy-seat for grace — and to 
the Cross for all your salvation from sin and hell, none but 
the Holy Spirit could have led you there. Those are the 
grand points to which he leads all whom he quickens. 
This is the very way in which he glorifies the Saviour. 
Settle it, therefore, in your minds, from this moment, that 
your reliance on the Lamb slain for a holy salvation, is 
absolute proof of having been " led" by the Holy Spirit. 
Or, if you still hesitate to admit this in your own case, do 
ask yourself, and fairly answer the question, Would any 
thing be proof without these sentiments and feelings ? Do 
you not see that nothing would amount to a saving change, 
if this holy reliance on the Saviour were not in it 1 It is 
evidently the chief thing in regeneration. 

Now, if you can neither deny nor doubt that you have 
been thus led by the Spirit of God, from the love of sin to 
the love of salvation, it is your immediate duty, as well as 
privilege, to believe that you are Christ's, and a child of 
God by Jesus Christ. But here again you fly off from the 
scriptural conclusion in your own case, and say, " I do not 
feel myself to be a child of God." But, consider ; how 
can you feel yourself to be so, while you do not believe that 
you are so 1 It is irrational to expect that you could feel 
what you disbelieve. The feeling of sonship must spring 



36 THE WITNESS 

from the belief of your own s-onship. No man can have 
the Spirit of adoption, so as to be fully aware of having it, 
until he believe that he is adopted. Accordingly, it is be- 
cause believers are sons, that God sends forth the Spirit of 
his Son into their hearts, " crying, Abba, Father." This 
seal of the Spirit, like the pentecostal gifts of the Spirit, 
may not be given at once : it may be delayed much longer 
than the full inspiration of the Apostles was ; but the Spirit 
of adoption will be sent forth, and, whenever it is so, it will 
be by enabling believers to believe that they " are all the 
children of God by faith in Christ Jesus." 

You may not have observed hitherto, that this is the 
scriptural way of leading believers into the glorious liberty 
of the sons of God. Indeed, many seem to look for it in 
another way, and to expect something like a revelation of 
their own adoption and sonship. They do not see, from 
the Scriptures, that they are the children of God by faith ; 
and, therefore, they take for granted that their knowledge of 
their own sonship must come from another quarter — even 
from the direct witness of the Spirit with their spirits, that 
they are born of God. Accordingly, for this direct witness, 
they are praying, and waiting, and hoping. Thus many 
have been judging and acting for years. They know that 
until they are the children of God, they are not " heirs of 
God," nor "joint heirs with Christ;" and as might be 
expected, they are often cast down because they obtain no 
clear sense of their own sonship. The witness which they 
look for, and pray for, does not come ; and therefore they 
imagine that it is withheld in sovereignty, or kept back 
until they shall acquire more of the marks of adoption. 
And, as they see in themselves many causes why God 
should not answer their prayers for the witness of the 
Spirit, they try to be content without it for a time. 

Now it is no mistake, that the Holy Spirit will not witness 
to the sonship of any child of God, who is living in the in- 
dulgence of any known sin ; it is no mistake that the wit- 
ness of the Spirit is only given in answer to prayer ; it is 



OF THE SPIRIT. 37 

no mistake that there is a direct witness of the Spirit. 
" These are the true sayings of God /" 

But still there is a mistake ; and it lies in supposing that 
the direct witness of the Spirit is something different from 
the direct witness of the Word. It is also a mistake to 
suppose, that the Holy Spirit either will or can witness to 
our sonship, before our own spirit witness to our having 
really believed on Christ for salvation. Neither the Spirit 
of God, nor the Word of God, bears any witness to our 
adoption, until our own spirit is conscious of faith in Christ. 

It is by leaving the question of personal faith unsettled, 
that so many both miss and mistake the witness of the 
Spirit. They allow it to remain doubtful to themselves, or 
are afraid to decide, whether their own believing in Christ 
is saving faith or not. They wish it to be so — pray that it 
may be so — and cherish a faint hope that it may prove to 
be so in the end ; but at present, they do not venture to 
regard their own believing as real faith. Their own spirit 
does not bear them witness that it is so. 

Now, while this continues to be the case, they must 
search their own hearts in vain for that witness, or for the 
peculiar fruits of the Spirit ; for these are peculiar to 
believers. Uur.il, therefore, your own spirit witness that 
you are a believer, the Spirit of God will not, cannot wit- 
ness that you are a child of God ; you must not, therefore, 
shrink from going fully into the question of your own faith. 

It is, indeed, a solemn one, and not easily settled, owing 
to the many controversies which exist on the subject of 
faith ; but still it may be settled, and therefore it should not 
be left unsettled, especially as you can make no progress 
towards joy or peace until you know yourself to be a 
believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. Let us, therefore, go 
into the question calmly and seriously. 

Now your own spirit, although it does not bear you wit- 
ness that you are really a believer, witnesses something on 
the subject of salvation by the blood of Christ. It bears 
you witness that you are no longer indifferent about this 
vol. i. — 4 



38 



THE WITNESS 



way of salvation, nor seeking to be saved in any other way. 
It is even the persuasion of your spirit that there is no 
other way. You feel also in your inmost soul, that unless 
you obtain an interest in Christ, you must perish ; and what- 
ever you may think of his willingness to save you, your whole 
spirit is fully persuaded that Jesus is able to save you. So 
far your own spirit witnesses without hesitation or reserve. 
Well ; so far you are evidently not an unbeliever. All this 
is not all the truth concerning either the person or the work 
of Christ ; but it is some of it. It is, at least, the hearty 
belief of this part of the Gospel — that there is no other 
name given under heaven, whereby we can be saved, but 
the name of Jesus. It is also the hearty belief, that Jesus 
is able to save unto the uttermost, all that come unto him. 
It is also the hearty belief, that by the works of the law, no 
flesh living can be justified. All these things are the living 
and settled convictions of your mind, as well as the express 
words of God ; and, knowing that you did not always 
believe these things fully, you are almost persuaded that 
ymr strong conviction of their truth is from the work of 
the Holy Spirit on the mind. 

You do, then, accede to all this, as being the witness of 
your own spirit ? Well ; that witness is proof that, thus 
far, you are not an unbeliever. Let this, then, be a settled 
point. And now, carry the inquiry farther into the witness 
of your own spirit. Does your mind or conscience charge 
you with disbelieving any part of the divine testimony con- 
cerning the person or the work of Christ ? The substance 
of that testimony is, that Christ is God manifested in the 
flesh, as a sacrifice for sin. Now, if you disbelieve this, 
it is a matter of no consequence what else you believe. It 
is not, however, disbelief of it, to be unable to comprehend 
it fully. It is the great mystery of godliness, and therefore 
faith has to do with the fact, not with the nature of the 
union of divinity and humanity, in the person of the 
Saviour. What, then, is the witness of your spirit to this 
fact ; if you are conscious that you believe it, on the 



OF THE SPIRIT. 39 

authority of God, to be the fact, thus far also you are evidently 
not an unbeliever ; for what more could you, or indeed any 
one, do with it, than to believe it to be the truth of God ? 
Perhaps you are ready to say, that you never doubted the 
divinity or the atonement of the Saviour ; and that, as you 
believe no more now than what you did while you were care- 
less, you cannot reckon your present believing real faith. 
Well ; what do you reckon it ? Unbelief 1 It certainly 
is not that, if words have any meaning. It may be weak 
faith, but it cannot be unbelief, if it embrace the truths 
which you say it does. And as to your having believed 
while careless, all that you do now, it is unreasonable and 
unwise to think so for a moment. It was not believing with 
the heart, nor the purpose for which the Son of God be- 
came incarnate, and was crucified ; and therefore it was 
the worst kind of unbelief. Whereas, if you now rest all 
your hope of salvation upon the atonement, because you 
believe that the divinity of Christ rendered his death a 
glorious atonement ; this is faith. Words have no meaning, 
if this be not faith. You might as well call light darkness, 
as consider this unbelief. You are not an unbeliever, if 
your spirit bear you witness that you embrace whatever 
God has testified concerning the person and work of his Son. 
You are now, if you regard this grand point as settled in 
your own case, in the direct way to obtain the witness of 
the Spirit to your own adoption. And the first thing you 
want in order to this is, to be enabled to see and believe the 
connexion there is between faith in Christ, and your being 
a child of God. Now, faith and sonship are inseparably 
connected in the word of God. Hence the express declara- 
tion concerning Christ and believers : " Unto as many as 
received him, gave he power to become the sons of God ; 
even to them that believe on his name :" that is, they are 
empowered, or warranted, to regard themselves as the chil- 
dren of God. Accordingly, when Paul found the Galatian 
believers doubting, or misunderstanding this warrant, he said, 
" Ye are all the children of God, by faith in Christ Jesus." 



40 THE WITNESS 

Now, it is to the truth of this gracious connexion between 
faith and sonship, that the Holy Spirit witnesses ; and the 
chief part of his witness is, to show that it is true in our 
own case. Indeed, the whole of his witness consists in 
filling, affecting, and influencing our spirit with the sweet 
persuasion, that it is " the truth of God," that we are 
warranted to believe ourselves the children of God, because 
all our faith is in the Son of God. This persuasion may 
vary, from time to time, in its fulness, clearness, and 
sweetness ; but, even when strongest, its true glory is, that 
it is true that we are the children of God by faith. The 
witness of the Spirit is not, therefore, different from what 
the word of God witnesses on this point; but the same. 
He shows nothing to our spirit but just what God has 
said in the Scriptures, and bears nothing in on the 
mind but just what is " written." His witness comes, 
indeed, with a power and glory at times, which makes the 
written truth appear newly revealed truth, or something 
which the believer had never heard, read, or thought of 
before ! The new force given to the old truth is sometimes 
such, that even wise and good men have almost forgotten, 
at the moment, the word of God, and thought only of the 
direct witness of the Spirit with their spirits. And, in 
such cases, there was a direct witness : all the melting, 
cheering, and holy influence of the Word on their minds 
was the effect of divine influence ; but still it was divine 
influence, working by the divine word, or the Spirit show- 
ing clearly and powerfully what had been overlooked or 
misunderstood before. No new truth, but the glory of the 
old, was brought home with demonstration and power ; for 
even when the witness of the Holy Spirit goes farthest in 
sweetness and glory, it does not go one hair's-breadth 
beyond, or away from, what is already revealed in the 
Holy Scriptures. 

And it is self-evident that nothing more can be wanted, 
either for comfort or establishment. What mors could you 
wish, than to know that you are, what you desire to be — a 



OF THE SPIRIT. 4J. 

child of God 1 If, therefore, that be already revealed in 
the Scriptures, the first thing you really need, in this mat- 
ter, is an increase of faith to believe the fact. Now, it is 
expressly revealed, that " As many as are led by the Spir- 
it of God, they are the sons of God ;" and that as many as 
" receive" Christ, or believe on him, are empowered to be- 
lieve also that they are "become the sons of God." When- 
ever, therefore, you understand and believe this, in your 
own case, you will have the witness of the Spirit ; for this 
is the truth of God ; and it is to " the truth," that the Spir- 
it witnesses. " But," you are ready to say, " if the son- 
ship or adoption of believers is revealed already in the 
Scriptures, what need is there for another witness to it ? 
If I can learn, from the Word of God, that I am a child of 
God, is not the witness of the Spirit unnecessary ?" Now, 
in your case, it is evidently very necessary ; for you have 
not learned, hitherto, that your " faith hath saved you." 
You hardly believe this now. You are, perhaps, not yet 
sure that your believing on Christ is saving faith. There 
is still a mist around the whole subject, as regards your- 
self. It is, indeed, breaking upon you, and brightening up 
here and there ; but you are almost as much afraid of the 
light as you are of the darkness. How can you, then, sus- 
pect that the testimony of the Word should set aside the 
witness of the Spirit ? You have often heard and read the 
written testimony of God, that believers are all his children 
by faith ; but hitherto, you have not ventured to believe this 
fact in your own case, and can hardly venture to do so now. 
It is, therefore, self-evident that instead of doing away with, 
or lessening the need of the Spirit's witness, the necessity 
of it is demonstrated by the very difficulty which you feel 
in trying to believe this part of the Gospel for yourself. 
Never, perhaps, did you feel more deeply than at this mo- 
ment, your own need of being led by the Spirit unto all 
truth. 

" True," you say, " but surely the witness of the Spirit 
is something more spiritual than all this : I have always 

4* 



42 THE WITNESS 

thought that it consisted in a peculiar divine impression on 
the mind, or a peculiar manifestation to the soul." Well, 
is it not a divine impression, and manifestation too, when 
the mind feels persuaded of the worth and all-sufficiency of 
the Saviour ; and of the truth of the great scriptural fact, 
that salvation is by faith alone, that it may be of grace en- 
tirely? The natural impression is, that salvation is by 
works alone, or by the fruits of faith, rather than by faith 
itself. If, therefore, you think lightly of feeling persuaded 
that you must be saved by faith, or perish, you underrate 
the value of your own convictions : for this conviction, if 
connected with love to holiness, is the best part and proof 
of the work of the Holy Spirit on your mind ; and, in fact, 
is the beginning of his witness too. 

But still you are not satisfied on this point : but feel al- 
most sure that the witness of the Spirit must be a more pe- 
culiar impression, or manifestation, than grace to believe all 
the truth. Well : an impression of what ? A manifesta- 
tion of what ? There is nothing to impress or manifest but 
revealed truth ; and as that is revealed which you want to 
know, the only thing you require, in order to enjoy the 
comfort of it, is grace to understand and believe it for your- 
self. For do you not see that any impression of what is 
not revealed could never be relied on, because it could never 
be proved to be a divine impression ? The manifestation 
of any thing to the soul, different from, or additional to, the 
Word of God, could, indeed, come only from a wicked 
spirit. It is, therefore, evidently wrong to look for any di- 
vine witness, but what the Spirit of God bears to the truth 
of the divine word, and its correspondent influence on our 
hearts and habits. 



OF THE SPIRIT. 43 

No. IV. 

THE SPECIAL FRUITS OF THE SPIRIT. 

" The fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness." It does not, 
however, follow from this, that all goodness is " the fruit of 
the Spirit." All real goodness of heart and character is so, 
of course ; but there is much apparent and comparative 
goodness, which is merely the fruit of education and self- 
righteousness. Hence the importance of distinguishing be- 
tween the fruits of the Spirit and the fruits of nature ; for 
these, like some of the fruits of the earth, are occasionally 
similar in appearance, whilst, in reality, they are as differ- 
ent as food and poison. Comparatively, there are many 
who are good neighbours, good parents, and good children: 
but their goodness, in these social relations, flows from no 
love to God, nor from any regard to the Holy Spirit. Ac- 
cordingly, they do not pretend to be influenced by the Spi- 
rit or Word of God in the goodness which they cultivate ; 
it is merety their way — their rule — their family system of 
acting. This is both the history and mystery of all their 
comparative goodness. 

Now, whatever such goodness be, it certainly is not re- 
ligion ; for God is not made its author nor its end. It is 
not derived from his grace, nor directed to his glory; and, 
therefore, cannot be satisfactory to him, however beneficial 
it may be to society. No wonder : we ourselves would not 
be satisfied with any goodness in our children, if it were 
unconnected with love to ourselves as their parents. Did 
they neglect, avoid, and forget us, we should regard them 
as bad children, however good they were to others, and in 
other respects. And nothing ought to be held real goodness 
in a child, when filial love and gratitude are wanting. 
Much more, therefore, may God, so far as, it regards him- 
self, disown all moral goodness, which begins, and goes on, 
without either love or gratitude to himself. 

Nor is this all. There is also a kind of love and grati- 



44 THE SPECIAL FRUITS 

tude to God, which does not mend the matter very much. I 
mean when they refer to Him chiefly as the God of provi- 
dence. Many mistake for religious principle, the pleasure 
they feel in their worldly lot. They have succeeded in 
business beyond their own expectations, and better than 
many who had more to begin with. Providence has smiled 
on their industry, and kept watch and ward over their in- 
terests. Accordingly, they see, and feel, and confess, that 
God has been very good to them. On this ground, they feel 
it to be their duty to cultivate some goodness, and to do 
some good, in grateful return for the divine goodness to 
themselves. Now, perhaps, no natural goodness approaches 
so near to " the fruit of the Spirit" as this. It is amiable, 
considerate, and highly consistent with a sense of moral ob- 
ligation. But, after all, it is often no better than self- 
righteousness, and sometimes it is mere ostentation ; and 
even when it is none of these, it may not be the fruit of the 
Spirit. Accordingly, many who go all this length in good- 
ness, do not even pretend that they are in the least influenced 
by the Holy Spirit in any good they do. The utmost they 
say or think is, " We bless God that we have a heart to do 
what little good we can in the world." Here the matter 
begins and ends. They have no heart for prayer ; no deep 
sense of their lost condition as sinners ; no clear under- 
standing of the way of salvation by the blood of Christ ; no 
settled persuasion of their own need of " a new heart ;" 
and, therefore, neither their general goodness nor gratitude 
is " the fruit of the Spirit." For the first fruits of the Spir- 
it are convictions of sin and righteousness ; or, the drawing 
away of the soul from sin and self-dependance, to take up 
with the cross and holiness. Accordingly, where there is 
no solicitude to be saved by the blood of the Lamb, there is 
none of that morality which is the fruit of the Spirit. 

The truth of these distinctions is both illustrated and con- 
tinued by the order in which the fruits of the Spirit are 
classed in the Word of God. " Love, joy, peace," are 
placed first in the catalogue ; and the moral virtues next. 



OP THE SPIRIT. 45 

Not that " long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, fidelity, 
meekness, temperance," are less the fruit of the Spirit than 
" love, joy, peace ;" nor because they are less necessary ; 
but because the moral virtues may be imitated without the 
Spirit, whereas the spiritual graces cannot. Any man may 
force himself to be temperate ; but no man can force him- 
self to love God or the Lamb. A man may be constitution- 
ally meek and gentle ; but no man lov r es God, nor rejoices 
in God, nor has peace with God, naturally. Accordingly, 
many of the truly serious, who are cultivating all the moral 
virtues, and who excel in some of them, regard themselves 
as almost strangers to both the work and witness of the 
Spirit, because they feel so little love, joy, or peace, in be- 
lieving. They see, in the case of the primitive believers, 
that faith wrought by love, and produced joy and peace ; and 
as their own believing does not work in this way, they dare 
not regard it as that faith which is from the operation of the 
Holy Ghost. This, however, is a grand mistake, if all 
their reliance is on Christ for a holy salvation. That is, 
" the faith of God's elect ;" and the only reason why it does 
not lead to " love, joy, peace," is, that such persons do not 
understand that their " faith hath saved them ;" for if they 
understood and believed that it had saved them, they could 
not be long strangers to love, joy, or peace. And even as 
it is with them, they are not utter strangers, nor so much 
strangers to these fruits of the Spirit as they themselves 
suspect and say. 

I appeal to you who have applied to Christ for a holy 
salvation, and are relying on him alone for eternal life : you 
say, that you feel little or no love to God and the Lamb. Do 
you mean by that, that you feel more hatred than love to 
them ? No : you are not conscious of any hatred to them. 
The bare idea of such a thing shocks you. Well, is there 
no love in this feeling ? You are ready to say — " the ab- 
sence of all hatred does not imply love ; we hate no one, 
but we do not love all alike." True, you have not the 
same reason for loving all alike ; and therefore you have no 



46 THE SPECIAL FRUITS 

desire to do so : but you really love all whom you desire to 
love. Now, if you really desire to love God and the Lamb, 
it is certain that you are not even indifferent to them, far 
less hostile to them. There is not an utter want of love, 
where there is a wish to love. Love is, indeed, weak when 
it consists chiefly in wishes ; but even then it is not pre- 
tence nor fancy. And if the weakness of it be the cause of 
shame and sorrow to you, the love itself, although certainly 
feeble, is not insincere. 

Are you then satisfied, in your own mind, that it is really 
your desire to love God and the Saviour supremely? Well, 
love to them must have a beginning, as well as every other 
gracious feeling. None of the graces of the Spirit, nor, in- 
deed of the gifts of nature, spring to maturity at once. 
The desire to love God should, therefore, be welcomed and 
well treated in the heart : for it is from that seed that all 
love to him springs, and without which none ever will or 
can spring up in the heart. Besides, are you not conscious 
of loving God and the Saviour, and their "commandments," 
more than you once did ? And would you not think it a 
very great change for the worse, were you to relapse to 
your former state of mind ? Would you not even suffer a 
good deal, rather than go back to your old sins and insen- 
sibility ? Weigh these questions seriously, and answer 
them fairly. I would not flatter you, nor teach you to 
think too highly of " the day of small things :" but as it is 
evidently a day of something gracious in your case. I must 
guard you against despising it. Now, it will never do any 
good, but real evil, to go on for ever questioning the since- 
rity of your love ; for until you admit that it is not insincere, 
it cannot increase in strength nor in warmth. It is well, it 
is necessary, to exercise a keen jealousy over our best feel- 
ings ; but if they are treated with nothing but jealousy and 
suspicion, they certainly will not grow better. Faith and 
love must be " watered," as well as watched ; cherished, 
as well as tried : — for if you get into the habit of trying them 
as hypocrites, ox only to And fault with them, you will never 



OF THE SPIRIT. 47 

be able to come to any satisfactory conclusion, nor to suc- 
ceed in improving them. 

Besides the kind and degree of love which you want to 
feel, you never can feel until you believe that God and the 
Lamb have loved and do love you. It is your doubt of their 
love to you that keeps down your love to them. This is 
the real secret of all the coldness and weakness you com- 
plain of; unless, indeed, some sin has still the throne of 
your heart. Then, indeed, the Holy Ghost will not shed 
abroad the love of God in your heart. But if this be not 
the case, what you want, in order to love God more, is to 
be enabled to believe that God has loved you. Now, why 
not believe this 1 You are warranted and welcome to be- 
lieve this for yourself, if all your faith is in Christ for a 
holy salvation. And, whatever you may think, you never 
can know that God has loved you, or that Christ " gave 
himself" for you, but by believing it. You may have ima- 
gined, hitherto, that the sense or assurance of this, must 
be borne in upon the mind in some mysterious or superna- 
tural manner ; but if by that, you mean in some way apart 
from believing what God has said, you mistake greatly. 
You must just take God's word for it, if ever you would be 
sure that he has loved you. Well, you have his word for 
it : — " The Father himself loveth you" saith Christ, " be- 
cause ye have loved me ;" and you have loved Him, if you 
have committed your souls to him for salvation, and are 
willing to obey him. 

Now, do you not see, at a glance, that the moment the 
soul admits the sweet persuasion of God's love to itself, it 
is impossible not to love him ? Try it in your own case, if 
it be merely as an experiment. Suppose that a voice, di- 
rect from heaven, assured you that God had " loved you 
with an everlasting love," and that, therefore, " with loving- 
kindness he had drawn you" to the Cross and the mercy- 
seat ; — could you hear this assurance without a glowing 
heart 1 Would not all your affections warm, and melt, and 
flow out to God 1 You feel at once that such knowledge of 



48 



THE SPECIAL FRUITS 



his love to you, would secure and inflame your love to him 
for ever ! Well ; if you are sure that you are a believer, 
you have this assurance in your Bible : and, therefore, it is 
just as true, as if a voice, direct from the heaven of heav- 
ens, were to inform you. Why not believe it, then ? This 
was the apostolic way of growing in love. V We love Him, 
because he first loved us." How did they know that God 
had loved them ? They knew that they had " believed 
through grace," and that God loved all such ; and, therefore, 
they said, " we have known and believed the love where- 
with God hath loved us." 

Now, as to the second special fruit of the Spirit — " Joy ;" 
however you may have complained, hitherto, that you had 
no joy in believing ; and however you may have wondered 
that your application to the Saviour was not followed by 
" the joy of salvation ;" the cause is obvious. It is not be- 
cause the Spirit has been sovereignly withheld from you ; 
npr that, joy does not follow from believing now, " as in the 
days of old ;" but, evidently and certainly, because you 
have, hitherto, believed only one half of the Gospel. But 
whilst the belief of that half is enough for safety, the be- 
lief of the other also is requisite in order to " joy." 

Consider this. The first and chief part of the Gospel is 
God's testimony concerning the person and work of his 
Son. With the belief of this testimony, he has graciously 
and inseparably connected the promise of eternal life. 
Hence arises a second divine testimony ; and it is concern- 
ing all who have believed the first with the heart. Now, 
that second testimony, which is thus concerning them, is, 
that they " have eternal life ;" that they " are the children of 
God ;" that they " are justified ;" in a word, that they have 
obtained the mercy and favour they were seeking ! Now, 
the moment they believe that they are actual heirs of the 
salvation they were believing in Christ for, joy must come 
into their hearts ; indeed it cannot be kept out ; for it is im- 
possible that any man can be joyless, who believes that all 
his sins are pardoned, and his soul redeemed, by the blood 



OF THE SPIRIT. 49 

of Christ. This, then, is that half of the gospel which you 
have either not observed before, or not ventured to believe 
in your own case. The consequence has been, that all the 
joy you had from looking to the Saviour, has been damped 
and kept down by the chilling suspicion, that he might not 
save you. Sometimes you have got above this fear for a 
moment, and seen so much of his grace and glory, that you 
could not doubt his willingness to save even you. You 
have, then, clasped the dear hope to your heart, and resolv- 
ed that you would cling to it through life. But how often 
have you lost your hold of it ! It has gone, you know not 
how. Why ? If the neglect of known duty, or the indul- 
gence of known sin, has not been the cause of its with- 
drawment, the cause is obvious : — you did not see that this 
fond hope of salvation was fully warranted, and chartered 
to you, by the express word of God. You took up the 
hope at first, not so much because you felt warranted and 
welcome, by that, to do so ; but because you were willing to 
do so, and could not be happy without it. Accordingly, 
whenever you asked yourself the question, " what right 
have I to hope for so great a salvation ?" — you could not 
answer it to your own satisfaction. You looked at your- 
self- — and felt that you had no claim ! You looked at 
others — and felt afraid to hope. But you did not look to 
the things that are " written" unto them " that believe on 
the name of the son of God," that they " might know" 
that they " have eternal life." Had you looked at them, 
your joy might have been " full." Let it be so now ; for 
"it is written," that whosoever believeth shall never perish, 
but have everlasting life ; and you do believe, if you love 
the Gospel. 

All this, I am aware, is easily said. I feel, with you, 
that it is easier to advise than to act here. Paul evidently 
felt this, when he said to believers, " Rejoice in the Lord ; 
and again I say, rejoice." This repetition of the injunc- 
tion, implies that, like ourselves, they did not understand at 
first, or they forgot at times, the warrant which faith has, in 

vol. i. — 5 



50 THE SPECIAL FRUITS 

the divine Word, to "rejoice always." It was, however, a 
mistake, when believers were afraid to rejoice in the Lord : 
for except when they become remiss, or irregular, they are 
always warranted to cherish the joy of salvation, as the 
strength of their heart. 

In like manner " Peace" whilst it is the fruit of the Spi- 
rit, is also the effect of faith. It is not a feeling of tran- 
quillity infused into the mind or the conscience, apart from 
" the truth ;" but by the truth. The Word of God is " the 
seed" of that peace which is the fruit of the Spirit. By 
overlooking this fact, and by mistaking the real nature of 
spiritual peace, many perplex and sadly hinder themselves 
in the divine life. Indeed, they often look for a kind of 
peace which is not promised, and expect it in a way which 
is not revealed. What do you mean when you pray for 
peace ? What would you consider as an answer to this 
prayer? If you mean by peace, that sweet serenity of 
soul which you have felt when you have obtained great en- 
largement of heart in secret devotion, or when you have 
been, as it were, carried " out of the body" by some glorious 
sermon, full of the glory of the Saviour ; you mistake the 
matter. This is, indeed, peace ; even " the peace of God, 
which passeth understanding ;" but it is that degree of it, 
which is more the reward of extraordinary devotional hab- 
its, than the effect of ordinary faith. Tastes of such holy 
tranquillity are vouchsafed, at times, to some, when they 
begin to follow the Lamb, that they may be encouraged to 
follow him fully, and convinced that his ways are peace ; 
but still, it is his own peace which he has left to his fol- 
lowers, as their ordinary portion. " Peace I leave unto 
you : My peace give I unto you." 

This was a distinction peculiarly wanted by the first dis- 
ciples. They were naturally sanguine in their expecta- 
tions, and prone to picture to themselves bright days and 
great things. Had, therefore, the Saviour said nothing but 
" Peace I leave unto you," the probability is, that they 
would have flattered themselves with a sunny prospect of 



OP THE SPIRIT. 51 

ease and tranquillity. How great, then, must have been 
their disappointment when they had to endure " fears with- 
out, and fightings within !" In that case, they might have 
said, " We looked for peace, and, behold, w r ar." All this 
was, however, prevented by the qualifying clause, " My 
peace give I unto you." This defined the legacy, without 
lessening its real value : for the Saviour's own peace, al- 
though it did not exempt him from trials, nor from the tempt- 
ations of Satan, nor even from the occasional hidings of 
the Divine presence from his soul ; yet it secured both his 
safety and triumph under them all. Accordingly, that kind 
and degree of peace his Apostles found during their work 
and warfare. 

Now this distinction we have need to notice and remem- 
ber ; for we too are prone to expect what is not promised. 
It would quite suit our taste and wishes to have no cares, 
trials, or temptations. We should be delighted if we were 
never to have an uneasy nor an unholy thought in our minds 
again. To have our hearts, like Gabriel's harp, always in 
tune, would be, indeed, heaven on earth, and the very thing 
we desire ! But all this is the poetry, not the sober reality, 
of religion. It is not to be angels, but to be " saints" on 
the earth, that we are called by God. " A life of faith on 
the Son of God," is a life of warfare against the lusts of 
the flesh and of the mind ; a life of watching against un- 
belief and temptation ; a life of obedience and submission 
to the will of God : and the peace which is the fruit of the 
Spirit, is the persuasion that God is on our side, and will 
not suffer us to be overcome. This was the Saviour's own 
peace, when his heart was broken with reproach, and his 
body agonized with pain, and his soul torn with anguish : 
and we deceive ourselves, if we mean by peace, exemption 
from trouble of mind or body. Such peace is not promised. 
The substance of what is promised is, " My grace is suffi- 
cient for thee" 

Now many who, in their own vague or visionary sense of 
the word, say that they have no peace in believing, are cer- 



52 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

tainly not strangers to this kind and degree of peace : for 
they evidently bear their trials well, and resist temptation 
manfully, because they believe that God has some gracious 
design in all that he calls them to do or suffer. 



No. V. 

JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

Until this subject is understood, it is impossible for any 
one, however serious or devotional, to enjoy the witness, or 
to abound in the fruit, of the Holy Spirit. Now, it is either 
not clearly understood, or not fully believed, in every case 
of fear which is not relieved by it. The fear of perishing is 
utterly incompatible with an intelligent belief of the scrip- 
tural fact, that " he who believeth" on Christ " is justified" 
unless indeed, the person who is in fear, is also conscious 
that he has not faith in the Saviour. In that case, the doc- 
trine of justification by faith cannot, of course, remove his 
fears ; but must, if he understand it, increase, instead of 
lessen them. Those, however, who are persuaded that 
they have faith in the Saviour and some love to him, but 
who are still afraid that they are not justified by his right- 
eousness, are certainly labouring under some mistake ; for 
his righteousness is " upon all them that believe." It is, 
therefore, " upon themselves, as a robe of salvation, if they 
are believers ; and they are believers who rely upon and 
love Jesus Christ for his holy salvation. Those who do 
so, because they are persuaded of the truth of his divinity 
and atonement, cannot be unbelievers, whatever they may 
suspect or think. This state of mind is utterly unlike un- 
belief. It is the very reverse of it in fact. It is faith, if 
it be any thing ; for faith is the cordial belief of " the 
truth" concerning the person and work of Christ. Indeed, 
if it were not, then it would follow that faith is the belief 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH, 53 

of conjectures ; for unless conjectures, there is nothing but 
" the truth" to believe ; and surely guesses, however plausi- 
ble, should never be preferred to the Word of God, nor 
even connected with it. Besides, there is no need for any, 
seeing God has graciously and inseparably connected with 
the belief of " the truth as it is in Jesus," the promise of 
justification and eternal life. All things necessary for life 
and godliness are promised to all who embrace the divine 
testimony with an honest heart. Whoever, therefore, does 
so, has no need to perplex himself with conjectures about 
his own adoption, redemption, or election. He has been 
elected, redeemed and adopted, if he has " believed through 
grace," and for holy purposes, " the glorious Gospel of the 
blessed God." All who " hold the truth" (except, indeed, 
those who " hold it in unrighteousness") have no occasion 
at all to doubt whether the Saviour died for them. He both 
loved them, and gave himself for them, who receive the 
truth in the love of it. These are "true sayings'' of the 
true God ; and therefore, the only thing wanted in order to 
enjoy the comfort of them, is to be enabled to believe them 
for ourselves. This, indeed, the Holy Spirit will not ena- 
ble us to do, if we are either indulging sin, or neglecting 
duty, or seeking a sanction for inconsistencies ; but where 
this is not the case, the Spirit will not refuse nor delay to 
increase our faith, if we try to grow in knowledge, that Ave 
may grow in grace. For reluctance to " lead into all truth" 
is no part of his character. He is a " free Spirit," and 
therefore, although he teach gradually, he will teach cer- 
tainly, and " to profit." 

When there is, however, perplexity on the subject of 
Justification by Faith, the best thing that can be done is, to 
examine the subject as if we had never heard of it before. 
And we ought to feel no reluctance to do so. Let us ex- 
amine it now. 

" How can man be justified with God . ? " — This solemn 
question was put by Bildad to Job ; and although Job's an- 
swer was not explicit at the moment, his opinion on the 
5* 



54 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

subject may be inferred from the fact, that he had said be- 
fore, " If I justify myself, mine own mouth shall condemn 
me." Paul, however, has given a direct and full answer to 
this momentous question, by stating explicitly how he him- 
self, and his fellow converts, sought to be justified. — " We 
have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by 
the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law." Gal. 
ii. 16. In this way, whatever it mean, Paul and his asso- 
ciates sought for justification before God. And whatever 
justification is, they found it by this means. Accordingly 
he said, " Being now justified by his blood, we shall be 
saved from wrath through him." And again, " being justi- 
fied by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord 
Jesus Christ." Thus clearly does the Apostle declare both 
the means which he employed, and his success in using 
them. He took God's way, and God gave him his own 
wish. Although the chief of sinners, God justified Paul, 
when he believed on Christ for righteousness. Not, in- 
deed, that God justified Paul's conduct or principles as a 
sinner. No ! for if " he that justifieth the wicked is an 
abomination to the Lord," it is self-evident that, in the sense 
of thinking or declaring Paul innocent, the Lord himself 
did not, and could not, justify him. God forgiveth " iniquity, 
transgression, and sin ;" but, in doing so, " he will by no 
means clear the guilty" from the charge of having been 
guilty. He treats sinners as kindly as if they were inno- 
cent, or as if they had never been sinners, when they re- 
turn from sin to the Saviour ; but he neither considers 
them innocent, nor palliates their guilt. He forgives, and 
even forgets, all the sins of all who believe ; but he allows 
no believer to forget that he was a sinner, nor to suppose 
that his sins were not hateful and hated by Him. It is, 
therefore, because believing sinners are accepted for the 
sake of Christ, as if they were not sinners, that they are 
said to be justified by God. 

The scriptural doctrine of Justification by Faith, is, — 
that the Saviour was treated as if he had been guilty, in 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 55 

order that the guilty, who believed in Him, might be ac- 
cepted as if they were innocent. This is what Paul means 
when he says of Christ, " He was made sin for us, that we 
might be made the righteousness of God in him." The 
Saviour had no sin, he " knew no sin," yet it pleased the 
Lord to bruise him. Why 1 Emmanuel had voluntarily, 
cheerfully, and fully, put himself in the room of sinners ; 
and therefore he was treated as if their sins had been his 
own, so far as the punishment of them went. He had to 
bear the curse as fully as if he had personally incurred it. 
And just because he did so, the blessing is as freely given 
to them who believe, as if they personally deserved it ; for 
what the Saviour deserves for his obedience and death, 
that the sinner obtains by relying on him for a holy salvation. 
This is the justification revealed and promised in the 
Gospel. This is the justification which Paul sought and 
found by believing ; he was welcomed, accepted, and 
blessed by God at the Cross, as if he had never sinned ; 
because on that cross the Lamb of God made his soul an 
offering for sin. And what more could a sinner wish, than 
to be received with as much tenderness as if he were inno- 
cent ? Innocence secures the fulness of the Divine love 
and favour. The angels are innocent, and therefore are 
the sons of God, radiant with his glory, and replenished 
with his own blessedness for ever. And yet — Gabriel 
when he tunes his harp, and prostrates his crown before 
the eternal throne ; and seraphim, when they cover their 
faces with their wings, in adoration of God and the Lamb, 
are not more welcome than a sinner returning to God by 
the blood of the Lamb is ! He, indeed, is not innocent ; 
but, for the sake of that blood on which he relies, he is re- 
ceived as graciously and loved as freely, as admiring cher- 
ubim or adoring seraphim are. Accordingly, Paul, when 
speaking of " the principalities and powers in heavenly 
places," as studying the manifold wisdom of God, adds, "In 
Christ we (we in common with them) have boldness and ac- 
cess with confidence, by the faith of Him." 



56 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

It is no valid objection against this simple view of justifi- 
cation, that God visits the transgressions of believers " with 
the rod," and their iniquity "with stripes." In this re- 
spect, indeed, they are not treated as innocent ; but, what 
is far better for them, " God dealeth" with them " as with 
sons." " For what son is he whom the Father chasteneth 
not ? Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scour- 
geth every son whom he receiveth." Only the really inno- 
cent can be exempted from all suffering. Believers are, 
however, treated as righteous, so far as it is good for them 
to be so. 

They are adopted into the family of God, and made heirs 
of eternal life, as freely and fully as if they were personally 
righteous or wholly innocent : and if they are made to feel 
their sinfulness by their pardon, and are only acquitted as 
those who are justly condemned ; this method of showing 
mercy does not lessen the value of the boon, but, indeed, 
enhances it, and sustains the honour of the Law and the 
Gospel at the same time. For it would not be good for us 
to be pardoned so, that our guilt should seem palliated ; nor 
to escape from the curse so, that we should not feel that we 
had been under it. Such a way of saving sinners would 
be as injurious to their own spiritual interests, as it would 
be dishonourable to God. Accordingly, it is not God's way 
in justifying the ungodly who believe in Jesus : he wel- 
comes them as if they were godly, but makes them to feel 
and confess that they are ungodly. Thus, even the abound- 
ings of Divine grace towards sinners are " in all wisdom 
and prudence ;" for whilst they remove the sting and stain 
of guilt from the conscience, they increase, rather than 
lessen, the sense of the evil of sin, in every conscience 
which is purged by the blood of Christ from " dead works," 
i. e., from works which deserve death. 

Here., then, is the justification which all sinners need, 
and which awaits every sinner who, like Paul, will believe 
in Christ, that he may be justified by the faith of Christ : 
God will accept him as righteous, for the sake of the righte- 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 57 

ousness of Christ, and treat him for ever as one reconciled 
by the blood of the cross. Like the father of the returned 
prodigal, God will rejoice over him, and receive him into 
complete sonship. Having thus seen what justification 
really is, you now see, 

First, How the Gospel suits your case as a sinner. It 
assures you that, by believing on Christ, God will welcome 
and accept you as fully as if you had never sinned. Now 
this is exactly what you want and wish. You do not wish 
to be treated as He treats the innocent angels, except so far 
as that is necessary to the safety of your soul. Accordingly, 
you do not object to those fatherly chastisements which the 
children of God have to endure. What you desire is, to be a 
child of God. Well ; there is ample provision in the Gospel 
for making you what you thus wish to be ; for in coming to God 
by Christ, he will treat you for Christ's sake, as if you were 
righteous. Now, it is because you are not righteous, but 
sinful and unholy, that you are afraid. All your fear arises 
from your aggravated guilt and utter unworthiness. You 
cannot forget what you have been, nor overlook what you 
are, as a sinner before God. Well ; you ought not to for- 
get nor overlook it. It is, however, a mercy to feel sen- 
sible of it, and humbled for it ? But now tell me, how would 
you feel if you were as innocent as a holy angel ? Sup- 
pose that you had never sinned in thought, word, or deed, 
would you be afraid then 1 Would you, in that case, doubt 
whether God would admit you into his favour and king- 
dom ? No , " the righteous Lord loveth righteousness ;" 
and therefore you would feel confident, if you were per- 
fectly righteous, that you would meet with no refusal from 
God. You could calculate to a certainty then, upon eternal 
happiness ! So you might ; for God can as soon cease to 
live as refuse to love the innocent. " But what is all this 
to the point," you say, " seeing I am not only not innocent, 
but very guilty and depraved too ?" True ; but if there is 
a righteousness so meritorious, that, for the sake of it, God 
can and will treat you as if you were not guilty, this would 



58 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

answer the same purpose as perfect innocence on your own 
part. Do you not see that 1 You are, indeed, utterly un- 
worthy; but the Saviour is infinitely worthy ; if, therefore, 
you can have all the benefit of his worthiness placed to your 
own account, you will be as safe as if you had never sinned. 
Now this is just what God does for sinners, when they ap- 
ply to Christ for all their salvation : he places to their ac- 
count the righteousness of Christ, so that he welcomes 
them as if it were all their own. 

Now this is the provision made for the justification of the 
ungodly who will believe in Christ ; and, most certainly, it 
fully meets your case as a sinner, however guilty you may 
be ; for your utter unworthiness cannot exceed the worthi- 
ness of the Lamb slain. " True," you say, " the righteous- 
ness of Christ is enough to justify me, or any sinner ; but 
the question is, will God impute that righteousness to me 1 
will he give me the benefit of it ?" This question implies 
a doubt, if not a fear, that he may refuse to do so in your 
case. I therefore ask at once — Why do you fear that 
God will refuse to justify you for the sake of Christ ? Has 
he any where said that he will not ? Is it his custom to re- 
fuse those who are willing to submit to the righteousness of 
Christ ? Has he ever sent away any one soul unclothed 
with that robe, who sought it in good earnest ? No ! All 
history, all heaven says, No ! And were all hell compelled 
to answer these questions, it would say, No ! Why, then, 
are you afraid of a refusal 1 There is nothing in the whole, 
or in any part, of the character of God, which renders it 
necessary that he should reject you ; for, by the righteous- 
ness of Christ, he can be perfectly just in justifying any 
one who believes : and, as his justice is thus on your side, 
it is self-evident that none of his other perfections can be 
against you. In like manner, there is nothing in the char- 
acter of the Saviour which renders your ejection necessary 
or likely. The robe of his righteousness is wide enough to 
embrace, and large enough to cover, your soul ; and he is 
not less willing now to enfold sinners in it, than when he 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 59 

threw it around the chief of sinners. For, as his righteous- 
ness is " upon" all them who do believe, so it is free unto 
all who will believe, on him for justification. Now, really, 
if these facts do not fully meet your case, as a sinner, it 
must be a very peculiar case, and its peculiarity must be 
imaginary, not actual ; unless, indeed, you are still uncer- 
tain whether you are a believer or not. 

But now, even if you have not yet, like Paul, believed in 
Christ, " that" you " might be justified ;" still, something is 
gained by this inquiry, if you now understand what justifi- 
cation is, and see the possibility of your own justification. 
Are you then convinced that God could be just even in jus- 
tifying you by faith 1 Is the way of acceptance through the 
merits of Christ plain to you, in all things but upon the 
point of believing ? Could you now venture to hope freely, 
if you were sure that your believing is faith 1 Well ; we 
are, then, in a fair way to bring this matter to a favourable 
issue. And it will facilitate this, to mark distinctly what 
Paul believed in Christ for. 

Now he says, that he believed that he might be justified. 
His own justification was, therefore, his fi.rst object when 
he applied to Christ. And it ought to have been the first 
blessing which he sought by faith ; for, until a condemned 
sinner is acquitted from the curse of the law, no other bles- 
sing, nor all the other blessings of grace, could save him. 
The sentence of condemnation must be repealed, or he 
must perish, whatever else were done for him. This sol- 
emn fact is, however, not sufficiently attended to even by 
the serious : and hence it is, that many of them begin their 
believing in Christ — not in order that they may be justified 
at once, or first, but that they may be made better, and be 
" born again." I do not, of course, find fault with this ob- 
ject in believing. Far from it. The man who does not ap- 
ply to Christ to be made a " new creature," does not apply 
to him for the grand purpose for which Christ died and rose 
again. But still, salvation from sin, although the chief 
practical object of the Atonement, is not its only object. 



60 FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD 

Christ died to redeem us from the curse of the law ; and as 
nothing can place the soul in safety while it is under that 
curse, those who know this should begin their believing on 
Christ, for the express purpose of being justified, or freed 
from the curse. This plan of proceeding would not dis- 
place their moral designs, nor lessen their solicitude about 
holiness ; and it would bring their faith in Christ to the test, 
far more effectually than the other plan does. The man 
who is trying to rely on the Saviour, merely that he may be 
enabled to become a better man, finds this kind of believing 
so easy, that it is no wonder if he doubt whether his be- 
lieving is that faith which is produced by the operation of 
the Spirit ; — whereas, were he to go to the mercy-seat for 
the distinct purpose of believing in Christ, in order that the 
curse of the eternal law might be taken off from his soul ; 
this solemn errand would show him how much faith he 
needed, and how necessary it is to pray, " Lord, help my 
unbelief, and increase my faith." 



No. VI. 

FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD AND THE LAMB. 

In nothing, perhaps, is the work of the Holy Spirit upon 
the heart more sensible or self-evident, than in the new 
views and feelings which it produces in regard to prayer. 
Even where prayer is not altogether neglected, nor hurried 
over heedlessly, there is a wonderful change of sentiment 
takes place, whenever the Gospel takes effect upon the 
mind. We see and feel then, that except for temporal mer- 
cies, we never prayed in thorough good earnest, nor had 
any real love or relish for devotion. It was often perform- 
ed as a task, and always as a mere duty. We attended to 
it rather to prevent temporal evil, than to obtain spiritual 



A 8 D THE LAMB. 61 

good ; and more from a dread of the consequences of being 
prayerless, than from any pleasure we had in praying. In- 
deed, as to pleasure in devotion, it seemed to us a contra- 
diction in terms, or an impossible thing. Accordingly, if 
we knew any one who was in the habit of spending much 
time in his closet, we were ready, if not to rank him with 
the Pharisees, who loved " long prayers," to wonder what 
he found to say during the time. And when we heard min- 
isters appeal to such men, affirming that they sometimes 
left their closets with more reluctance than they ever felt on 
entering them, and that they could almost have chosen to 
die on their knees, or to have spent an eternity in that hap- 
py frame of mind, we either knew not what to think, or 
thought that they had a very strange taste indeed. In a 
word, there was nothing seemed so unlikely to us, as that 
we should ever take pleasure in praying. But lo ! when 
we awoke to the worth of our immortal souls, and were 
made alive to the infinite value of an everlasting salvation, 
we were glad of any opportunity of pouring out our hearts 
unto God. Our difficulty then was, not how to find time or 
heart for prayer, but how to obtain answers to prayer : and 
we were never so happy as when hope and peace were 
stealing upon our minds, whilst thus wrestling with God for 
mercy. Then we began to understand what we had heard 
about the pleasures of devotion, and no longer wondered 
that communion with God should be magnetic to the soul. 
And it is no wonder ! For what can be so delightful as 
that holy calm of the mind which enables us to unbosom 
unto God, as unto a father, all our feelings and desires ; to 
dwell on all his perfections, not only without dismay or dis- 
like, but with complacency and confidence ; to repeat and 
plead all his great and precious promises with faith and 
hope ; and to anticipate his guidance until death, and his 
presence through eternity ? This is a joy which the world 
cannot give. Even when it does not rise so high as all this, 
it is more satisfying than any human pleasure ; for the 
heart is relieved and soothed, if it can only pour out its 
vol. i. — 6 



62 FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD 

fears and anxieties into the bosom of God. The bare con- 
sciousness of having felt as in his presence, wept as in his 
presence, and spoken as in his presence, leaves a sweet so- 
lemnity upon the spirits, which is healing, if not exhilara- 
ting. And when the soul can realize God as noticing, lis- 
tening, and pitying, and feels itself getting nearer and near- 
er to his presence and heart, and finds itself melted and 
impressed, as if he were visibly present or audibly speak- 
ing, then its joy is " unspeakable," even if it is not " full of 
glory." 

These hints will remind you of the 

" Moments rich in blessing," 

which you have spent upon your knees before the Cross 
and the mercy-seat. You can, indeed, never forget those 
closet interviews with God and the Lamb ; for they were 
the chief means of determining your choice, of fixing your 
principles, and of forming your character. You may, in- 
deed, have lost so much of your first devotional spirit, that 
you no longer obtain such happy interviews with God in 
your closet ; and if so, you cannot remember the past with- 
out pain. You cannot., however, forget the days of old, 
nor the morning of your first love. They are imperishable 
recollections in every renewed soul ; for when communion 
with God sets as a day-star in the heart, the memory of it 
rises as a dog-star in the conscience. Your shadow is not 
more inseparable from you than the consciousness of your 
loss and declension ; and hence ycur secret, if not your 
public, language is, " O that it were with me as in months 
past, when the candle of the Lord shone in my tabernacle !" 
Now, when those who have enjoyed communion with 
God lose it thus, there can be no doubt that there has been 
on their own part, some sin, imprudence, or remissness, 
which occasioned the loss : for God is not the Jlrst to hide 
his face, nor does he ever withhold his presence arbitra- 
rily. He may not always manifest himself to the soul so 
sensibly and sweetly as at first ; but he does not withdraw 



AND THE LAMfc. 63 

his presence entirely, except when he is provoked : but as 
it is the exhalations from the earth, and not from the heav- 
ens, which form the clouds and mist that hide the natural 
sun, so it is something from ourselves, not from God, which 
conceals the Sun of Righteousness from those who, hav- 
ing once walked in his light, now walk in darkness. Such 
being the fact of the case, it is self-evident that the dark- 
ness cannot be removed, but by the removal of that which 
brought it on, whatever it was. Whether sin or sloth, neg- 
ligence or irregularity, wrong tempers or bad habits, they 
must be abandoned, if we would have the light of the Di- 
vine countenance, or the joy of salvation, restored. For 
" if we say that we have fellowship with Him, and walk in 
darkness, we lie, and do not the truthP We never can 
combine a worldly spirit with a devotional spirit, nor keep 
up a good hope in a bad conscience. In like manner, if 
less time than usual is allowed for secret prayer, or less 
pains taken to enter into and keep up the spirit of it, com- 
munion with God is not to be obtained, and need not be 
expected. God does not, indeed, exact a long time for 
prayer ; but, until we seek him with our " whole heart," he 
will not cheer our hearts with a sense of his presence. He 
will be " inquired of," before he will shine forth from be- 
tween the cherubim. Now, hasty and heartless prayer 
does not amount to inquiring ; and it hinders the manifesta- 
tions of the Divine presence. Indeed, haste, like the un- 
belief of the Jews, which prevented Christ from doing 
many mighty works among them, prevents God from com- 
muning with the soul from the mercy-seat. There is not 
time for it, when we are in haste to get away from our 
closets. We ourselves are not prepared to enjoy or im- 
prove it, when we are up from our knees in a few minutes. 
We could not commune with a friend in that space of time, 
nor in that state of mind : so that when prayer comes to 
this low ebb, it is no wonder if Bethel is turned into Luz 
again, and the soul sent empty away from the throne of 
grace. 



64 FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD 

But, whilst all this is only too true, it is equally true, that 
mistakes, on the subject of communion with God, prevail 
so as to prevent it in a great measure, even when there is 
much prayer and watchfulness maintained. Some do not 
venture to expect much of the Divine presence, but actually 
lay their account with walking often in darkness, because 
they see how often Job, and David, and Asaph, and Jere- 
miah, and the Old Testament saints, were under the hi- 
dings of the Divine countenance. Observing tins fact, some 
believers take for granted, and as a matter of course, that 
they must experience similar trials of their faith and pa- 
tience, however they act. 

Now, it is certainly true, that the complaints of the Old 
Testament saints are only too appropriate to the generality 
of Christians. There is almost all the darkness and dis- 
tress of mind, which the Psalms are employed to express, 
and which they do express so fully and emphatically. But 
this should not be the case — it is not necessarily the case 
— in the church of Christ. We live under " a better Cov- 
enant," and brighter promises ; and therefore it is our own 
fault, by misconduct or mistake, if we have no more light 
than those who lived under the old Covenant. If, however, 
we are willing and trying to walk closely with God, and to 
enjoy an habitual sense of his presence, why form our 
ideas or expectations from the state of things under the 
old Covenant ? It certainly does not follow, as a matter 
of course, that, because David was often in darkness, a real 
Christian must be so too. It is not a matter of necessity 
that, because Job could not find the Divine presence, we 
should be unable to find it. These good men had, indeed, 
some greater excellencies of character than we can pre- 
tend to ; and, on that ground, were more likely to be hon- 
oured with more of the Divine presence ; but the dispen- 
sation which they lived under did not provide for so much 
of it as the Gospel does. Christ says to us, " He that 
believeth on me shall not walk in darkness, but have the 
light of life." Accordingly, we do not find the Apostles 
4* 



AND THE LAMB, 



65 



complaining, as the Prophets did, that they were under the 
hidings of God's face. They complain bitterly of the pres- 
ence and pressure of a body of sin and death, and of a law 
in their members which warred against the law of their 
minds ; but never of an absent God. 

This matter requires to be looked into minutely, seeing 
so many form their opinions and expectations of commun- 
ion with God, from the old, instead of the new Covenant. 
Now, we do not take the old Covenant for our principal 
guide in any thing else. We even boast of our superior 
light and liberty under the Gospel, and of our nearer and 
freer access to God, and of our greater privileges. But, 
where is the reality of these blessings, if we must be as 
often in darkness and distress of soul as David was ? I 
say " must," because it is certain that we may and shall go 
without the sun if we do not walk circumspectly. The 
Holy Spirit will frown upon sin and sloth as fully under 
the Gospel as he did under the law, and certainly withhold 
and withdraw the joy of salvation from backsliders. All 
this is inevitable from the eternal principles of the Divine 
character and government, because it is the only way of 
preventing or curing sin and backsliding among believers. 
But still, the real question is, what have they to expect 
under the Gospel, whose life and conversation " becometh 
the Gospel ?" Now, as they are not warranted to expect 
exemption from trials or temptations, it must be more of 
the Divine presence than was usually enjoyed by the saints 
under the law. Accordingly, except in those churches 
which had fallen from their first love and purity, we find, 
amongst the primitive Christians, no indications of those 
complaints which were so frequent in the Jewish church. 
The sad and piercing cry, " Why hast thou forsaken me ?" 
—and "Why art thou silent at the voice of my roaring?" — 
is never heard from any believer, in any of the New Tes- 
tament Churches ; a plain proof that, after the veil of the 
temple was rent from top to bottom, believers had boldness 
of access into the holy of holies by the blood of Christ, 

6* 



66 FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD 

and were thus sure to find God whenever they sought him. 
Now, from this fact, and not from the case of David, we 
ought to form our opinions and expectations of communion 
with God. 

Besides, it is by far too little remembered that David 
was a prophetic type of the Saviour, and thus gave utter- 
ance to his mediatorial sorrows, as well as to his own per- 
sonal sorrows — a fact which lessens very much the number 
of those hidings of the Divine presence which he seems to 
have experienced. In like manner, their number is still 
further reduced by the fact, that, under the Jewish dispen- 
sation, temporal calamities were considered as hidings of 
God's countenance ; and delay in removing affliction was 
spoken of as the shutting out of prayer. It is, therefore, 
both unnecessary and unwise to make the apparent experi- 
ence of David, the standard of what may be expected from 
a close walk with God in Christ. By doing so, many have 
deprived themselves of much comfort, and God of much 
honour. 

The truth of these remarks is not affected by the mel- 
ancholy fact, that the enjoyment of the Divine presence, or 
intimate communion with God, is a rare thing in the pres- 
ent day. It certainly is so : but not because God is unwil- 
ling to commune with us at the mercy-seat — not because 
there is not ample provision made for nearness and free- 
ness of access to him — but because so few seek him with 
their " whole heart," or allow him time to manifest his pres- 
ence to their souls. Settle it, therefore, in your own mind, 
for it is settled already and unalterably in his Word, that 
you are " not straitened" in God or in the Lamb. Your 
fellowship may be truly and habitually with them, if you 
are willing to " walk in the light," as they are in the light. 
If you are ready, " all things" in heaven " are ready," for 
sweet communion with God. The Lamb is in the midst 
of the throne with a censer of meritorious incense, in the 
shadow of which you may always kneel with safety, and 
from the fragrance of which your prayers may always find 



AND THE LAME. 67 

acceptance, when they are according to the will of God. 
And the infirmity-helping Spirit is ever at hand to teach 
you how to pray and what to pray for. "Enter" therefore, 
11 into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to 
thy Father which is in secret, and thy Father which seeth in 
secret, shall reward thee openly" 

In order, however, to understand the subject of commun- 
ion with God aright, more mistakes require to be removed. 
Now, it is a mistake to imagine that nothing amounts to the 
Divine presence in prayer, but what produces a holy calm 
of mind, or a high excitement of feeling. We naturally 
make our first sensible enjoyments in prayer, the standard 
by which we judge of our future success. Accordingly, 
when we do not find that delight nor liberty which we ex- 
perienced formerly, we are apt to conclude that God has 
hid his face from us, or that we have lost the spirit of de- 
votion. Under this impression, we go heartless and hope- 
less to our closets, and feel, at times, almost inclined to give 
up prayer, because we have no longer our usual enjoyment 
in it. Sometimes, indeed, our hearts are so cold and dead, 
that it seems an insult to God to attempt prayer in such a 
frame. We cannot, however, live long without it; and 
therefore we are compelled to pray, as we can, soon. Our 
memory, however, clings to the sweet and soothing mo- 
ments of the days of old, and our souls continue to long 
for the return of these " times of refreshing from the pres- 
ence of the Lord." Now this is right : but it is wrong to 
make them the standard of the Divine presence. Such 
ecstatic enjoyment in devotion, as that which is sometimes 
vouchsafed to the soul at the outset, is not necessary in or- 
der to our going on in the walk of faith. For, when we 
began to follow Christ, there was reluctance, yea, aversion 
of heart, to prayer, to be overcome. It was, therefore, ne- 
cessary, in order to reconcile and attach us to prayer, to 
grant such enjoyment in it, as should prove to us that it was 
no vain nor wearisome thing to wait on God. But now we 
are convinced of this, and ashamed of our former preju- 



68 FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 

dices against devotion. We know by experience that it is 
" good to draw nigh unto God," nor could any one persuade 
us that it is insipid or useless work. We are not ashamed 
to avow that our happiest moments have been spent at his 
throne. So far, therefore, our first communion with God 
has answered the purpose of establishing the claims and 
the habit of prayer ; and this being accomplished, raptures 
should not be necessary to maintain them, but the steady 
oar of duty, without the full sail of excitement, enough to 
carry us on. 

This is, however, only the lowest view of the matter, 
and but introductory to more scriptural views of it. The 
real fact of the case is — that our first enjoyments in prayer 
are not always connected with clear views of the whole 
scheme of salvation. What we knew of it at first, we felt 
deeply, and prized highly ; but, then, w T e attached quite as 
much importance to our own feelings, as to the facts which 
gave rise to them ; and drew, perhaps, more of our com- 
fort from them, than from the Gospel itself. We might 
not, indeed, be aware of this at the time, and may never 
have intended to do so ; but that we really did so, is evi- 
dent, from the single fact, that when our feelings began to 
decline, our comfort decayed with them, although our be- 
lief of the Gospel continued almost unaltered ; a plain 
proof that we attached, though perhaps unintentionally, 
more importance to the work of the Spirit in us, than to the 
work of Christ for us. God, I am fully aware, does not 
make the nice distinctions which theorists do on this sub- 
ject, nor does he scorn the confusion of ideas which mark 
our first applications to the Saviour. He can listen with 
pleasure to the broken music of a " bruised reed," howev- 
er Sandemanianism may despise it. But, whilst all this is 
true, it is equally true that he will gradually bring off con- 
verts from relying on their feelings, just as he brought them 
off from relying on their works. In a word, he will make 
Christ himself, and his finished work, more precious to our 
souls, than any feelings which they gave rise to. 



THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 69 

Here, then, except the Holy Spirit has been grieved by 
an untender walk, is the grand reason why God does not 
continue our sensible and rapturous enjoyments in prayer : 
we were, unawares, it may be, but certainly, putting it in 
the place of the Saviour himself; and therefore God wise- 
ly and kindly withheld it as a direct communication from 
his Spirit, that we might draw all our hope and comfort 
from the Gospel itself, and learn to live by faith upon Christ 
as he is revealed to us in the Scriptures. God has not, 
therefore, been hiding his face from you, nor yet shutting 
out your prayer, because he has not shone upon your soul 
in prayer as formerly ; but because you required to be more 
completely " shut up unto the faith." You were living 
more by sense than by faith, and thus it became necessary 
to draw and drive you off from changeable feelings to an 
unchangeable Saviour. Accordingly, the want of sensible 
enjoyment has compelled you to re-examine the plan of 
salvation, and to re-consider whether you were seeking to 
be justified by faith, or, " as it were, by the works of the 
law." 



No. VII. 

THE HOPE OF SALVATION THE BEST SAFE- 
GUARD TO THE UNDERSTANDING AGAINST 
ERROR, AND OF THE HEART AGAINST SIN. 

Alexander the Great having, on one occasion, distrib- 
uted the whole of his private fortune among his friends 
and generals, was asked why he left nothing for himself: 
" Hope is still left for me," said the ardent monarch. And, 
in the affairs of this life, hope is still the last thing which 

* See this subject fully treated in the second part of this volume, 
" Communion with God, or a Guide to the Devotional''' 



70 THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 

we relinquish. It seats itself upon the throne of the heart 
in the morning of life, and leaves it only when the heart is 
breaking under the cold hand of death. It hovers around 
the cradle of our infancy, when " it doth not appear what 
we shall be;" and over the coffin of our old age, when it 
doth not appear what we are. Hope is the sun that rules 
the " day," and the moon that rules the " night" of life. It 
is the rainbow which gilds the clouds of our calamity, and 
the morning star which leads on our brighter prospects. 
In a word, hope is to the soul what the soul is to the body 
— the mainspring of life and action. Take it away, and 
soon the energies of the body and the mind wither and per- 
ish. Hopeless labour is all fatigue ; hopeless enterprise 
is unsteady ; hopeless suffering is overwhelming. 

Whatever, therefore, may be said in theory, against ho- 
ping too much, and whatever may be proved from expe- 
rience, against the indulgence of sanguine hopes, the sober 
fact is, that hope is essential to success in all the business 
of life ; because, without it, diligence is weak and resolu- 
tion wavering. The business of life could not go on, nor 
the trials of life be sustained, if mankind did not wear the 
helmet of hope. It is their strength and safeguard amidst 
the duties and sufferings of the present state of being. 

All this is equally true of the hope of salvation : it is 
the helmet of the Christian, which, by protecting his head 
from mental error, fortifies his heart against temptation, dis- 
traction, and despondency. His very character is both 
formed and confirmed chiefly by the hope of salvation, and 
rises or falls as that hope is high or low. When his hopes 
are dim or languid, duty, and especially devotion, languishes 
with them ; when they are bright and firm, all duties are 
pleasant and all trials tolerable. He has then heart and 
hand to do and endure the will of God. But when the 
hopes of a Christian decline and fade away, until he hardly 
knows what to think of his case, the effect is, that although 
he will not throw up his profession, nor risk his character, 
he will not maintain either so well as he did whilst he was 



THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 71 

sustained by a hope full of immortality. He may still pray 
in his family and in his closet ; but not with a truly devo- 
tional spirit. He may still continue regular in his attend- 
ance upon all divine ordinances ; but he will not come to 
them with his former relish or expectation : for hope is the 
very soul of devotion and holiness, and therefore they 
abound or subside together. Hence the importance and 
necessity of maintaining the hope of salvation. 

Now, it is a curious fact, that the truly serious are the 
most " slow of heart" to take up, or to keep up, the hope of 
salvation. They are the last to lay hold of it, and the first 
to let it go, in their own case. Indeed, real converts are 
almost the only class who require to be urged to cherish 
hope. The generality, even of the careless and undecided, 
hope for salvation, just as they hope for any thing else, as 
a matter of course. " As I hope to be saved," is the usual 
mode of expression, when any doubtful assertion is con- 
firmed. Thus it is — we seldom see a careless man who is 
afraid to hope for salvation ; and we never see a godly man, 
who has not been afraid to hope for it in his own case. 
Indeed, it is with a timid heart and a trembling hand, that 
all true penitents lay hold of the hope of eternal life. 
Even when they see both their way and their welcome to 
" the hope set before them" in the Gospel, their sense of 
utter unworthiness almost unfits them for hoping freely or 
fully. And even when they venture to cherish " a good 
hope through grace," they are almost ashamed and afraid to 
acknowledge it to others, or, indeed, to themselves. Now, 
if such timidity and hesitation were as wise as they are 
amiable, it would be wise to let them alone : for any thing 
that would change them into rashness or flippant boldness 
would be highly unwise and wicked. They may, however, 
be removed, without being replaced by presumption or 
boasting. Paul's humility was not destroyed nor lessened, 
when he ventured to say of Christ, " He loved me, and 
gave himself for me." In fact, the belief of this deepened 
his humility, by increasing his happiness. The joy of sal- 



72 THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 

vation was " the strength" of his heart, in all the holy 
principles, in which it was strongest. How did he pass 
so uncontaminated through a world lying in wickedness ; 
and so unshaken through all the clamour and sophistry of 
controversy ; and so triumphant through all his trials and 
persecutions ? He wore the hope of salvation, as a helmet 
upon his head ; and his understanding being thus protected 
against mental error, his heart and conscience were fortified 
against temptation. And thus alone can you keep " the 
faith," or continue the " good fight ;" for, without the hope 
of salvation to guard your judgment, your principles maybe so 
upset or unsettled, by false doctrine, as to yield no enjoy- 
ment under trouble, and no strength in the hour of temptation. 

It is, I am aware, more common to encourage believers in 
their work and warfare, by persuading them to keep up heart, 
than by urging them to guard well their understanding and 
judgment. But the heart cannot be kept up, if the head is 
not kept safe from the assaults of error. Our intellectual 
powers must be protected, if we would keep our moral 
powers pure or vigorous ; for we cannot feel aright, if we 
judge wrong ; nor act aright, if we choose wrong ; nor 
maintain a good conscience, if we give way to a disordered 
imagination. Now, the grand security for a " sound mind," 
and through that, for a ".pure heart," is to "put on for a 
helmet the hope of salvation." That hope, by entrenching 
the understanding in the truth of the Gospel, will best lay 
and keep open the heart to all the holy and consoling influ- 
ence of the Gospel. 

The point on which these general remarks bear is this ; 
we may be so tempted by infidelity and false doctrines, and 
get so entangled with doubts, or disputes as to be unable to 
maintain our ground. Now, as every one cannot pursue 
that course of reading, nor follow out that train of reason- 
ing, which would clear up all speculative difficulties, it is 
of the utmost importance to be familiar with some single 
and simple fact of revelation, which shall be an " anchor to 
the soul, sure and steadfast," amidst the winds of doctrine, 



THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 73 

and the fluctuations of opinion ; and which shall regulate 
the mind as the magnetism of the pole does the motions of 
the needle. Now, the security is to be found in " the hope 
of salvation." The man who understands the salvation of 
God, and cherishes the hope of it, has, within himself, a 
retreat from which no sophistry nor error can drive or draw 
him away. 

Is he tempted to Infidelity ? Its objections may be plau- 
sible, and its sarcasms perplexing, to him. He may be un- 
able to answer or to analyze them in detail. They may 
throw a momentary spell upon his spirit, and a mist on his 
vision : but he will see, at a glance, and feel with all the 
keenness of a sensation, that infidelity has nothing to offer, 
which can be compared with the " great salvation" it would 
rob him of. For, if present hope and eternal happiness are 
his objects, he has securities for them in the Bible, infinite- 
ly stronger than natural religion can give to her votaries, for 
the vague prospects which they cherish. Thus, the mo- 
ment he looks to the hope of salvation, he perceives that the 
light of nature reveals no such heaven beyond the grave, 
nor ratines any one hope which it is said to inspire. So 
long, therefore, as eternal happiness is dear to him, his faith 
in the Gospel is impregnable to all the assaults of scep- 
ticism, because he must be a loser by that system. Thus the 
single and simple reflection — I could gain nothing, and I 
might lose all, by relinquishing the Bible — enables him to 
possess his soul in patience, amidst all the mysteries of 
revelation, and all the wiles of its enemies. 

Nor is this all : the man who is familiar with, and con- 
firmed in, the hope of the " great salvation," soon per- 
ceives that its character is peculiar ; so peculiar, that it has 
no parallel nor semblance in any rival system. He may 
not know, in detail, the moral character of ancient heathen- 
ism, nor the precise nature of that heaven which philosophy 
dreamt of ; but from all that he hears, even from the eulo- 
gists of the philosophers, it is self-evident to him, that they 
never thought of such a salvation as the Gospel reveals. 

vol. i. — 7 



74 THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 

Indeed, the more he is plied with their boasted discoveries, 
the more will he feel persuaded that it never " entered the 
heart of man to conceive what God hath laid up for them 
that love him." Thus, the humblest believer is ball-proof 
against all the array of infidel philosophy ; because he has 
only to observe, that its best morals do not amounc, even in 
theory, to conformity to the Divine image ; nor its highest 
purity to true holiness ; nor its brightest prospects to any 
thing like the heaven of the Bible. Its very Platos are vile, 
whem compared with the Apostles of the Lamb, and its 
Socrateses are but children in their company. In a word, 
he can find nothing, true or false, in any system of natural 
religion, which even borders upon the sublime idea of a 
salvation which embraces the justification of " soul, body, 
and spirit," for eternity ! All human schemes propose no- 
thing beyond the amendment of human nature ; for the Gos- 
pel alone proposes to make us " holy as God is holy." We 
have, therefore, in order to be unmoved by all the parade of 
learned scepticism, only to keep before us the holy character 
of the great salvation ; that, like the spear of Ithuriel, will 
always detect Satan, even when he transforms himself into 
an angel of the Light of Nature. 

In like manner, is the believer tempted to Unitarianism ? 
He is perfectly safe, so long as he wears, as a helmet, the 
hope of that salvation which is revealed in the Gospel 
His knowledge of criticism, or of logic, or of ecclesiastical 
history, may be too slight to assist his faith. But, even if 
he is unable to draw upon any other source than his En- 
glish Bible, the very heaven which it reveals will render his 
faith impregnable to the whole artillery of Socinian learn- 
ing and sophistry. They may puzzle him with the ambi- 
guities of a figurative text, or set him fast by some sweep- 
ing assertion, or perplex him by an appeal to his common 
sense, which the uncommon sense of an angel could not 
answer by dint of mere reasoning ; but still he is safe, and 
may be triumphant, if he wield the character of the heaven 
of the Bible manfully. Neither the blustering assertions, 



THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 75 

nor the sleek insinuations of Unitarianism, can move him, 
while he takes his stand on " the sea of glass before the 
throne ;" because there, he hears songs and sentiments, 
which give the lie direct to both the letter and spirit of Uni- 
tarian worship. There, all the armies of heaven at the 
same time and in the same terms, adore both God and the 
Lamb. Their posture is as lowly, and their song as lofty, 
when they worship the Son, as when they worship the Fa- 
ther. And, in regard to salvation, all " the spirits of just 
men made perfect" ascribe it entirely and exclusively to 
the blood of Christ. Thus, there rushes down from all the 
hearts and harps of heaven, one uniform and everlasting 
stream of equal glory to God and the Lamb, and of adoring- 
gratitude for the Atonement. And, then, all this goes for- 
ward in the presence, and with the permission, and there- 
fore by the appointment of God : for neither angels nor 
saints would dare to worship as they do, in heaven, if it 
were not " the will of God" that they should honour the 
Son even as they honour the Father ; and that the Atone- 
ment should have all the glory of salvation. Nothing but 
the divine will could establish such worship amongst per- 
fect spirits ; and it is self-evident that God would not have 
willed it, if it were not agreeable to the eternal facts of his 
nature, and the moral principles of his government. 

Thus the believer has all heaven on his side, in defence 
of his hope of salvation"through the, merits of a divine and 
atoning Saviour. If, therefore, he cannot quote scholar 
against scholar, nor antiquity against modern upstarts, nor 
the canons of criticism against sciolists, he can quote the 
" New Song" against all the reasonings and railings of his 
opponents, and appeal to "the general assembly" of saints 
and angels, for the truth of his sentiments. That army of 
the living God, cannot, he is sure, mislead nor deceive him ; 
and as he knows, from their example, what is the " will" of 
God in heaven, and how it is " done" there, he is equally 
sure that, whilst adoring God and the Lamb, and glorying 
only in the Cross, he is doing the will of God " on earth" 



76 THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 

exactly " as it is done in heaven." Thus the great princi- 
ples of a Christian's faith are as infallible as the worship 
of heaven. We have only to keep clearly before our minds 
the character of the great salvation, which is — that it is 
blood-bought, in order to see at a glance that Unitarianism 
is as unlike it as Mahometanism is. 

In like manner, is the believer tempted to Antinomianism ? 
He is perfectly safe against all its insinuating snares, while 
he maintains the hope of that salvation which is revealed 
in the Gospel. It is a holy salvation, if it is any thing. A 
salvation from sin, not in sin. How any one can overlook 
this self-evident fact, is most amazing ; for it is written, as 
with sunbeams, on every principle and promise of the Gos- 
pel. It is, however, both overlooked and practically denied 
by some who profess the firmest attachment to the doctrines 
of grace. They even boast that the divine law is not bind- 
ing upon them as a rule of life ; that they are free to live 
as they like ; that sin can do them no real injury, and that 
God does not see any iniquity in them ! I once heard one 
of this school declare from the pulpit, that if he were to go 
out and commit a murder, the sin, although it might bring 
him to the gallows, would not only not risk his salvation, 
but it could not for a moment bring even the shadow of a 
doubt upon his mind as to the certainty of his salvation. In 
this form, Antinomianism is its own antidote, and any thing 
but a temptation to believers. This, however, is not the 
form which it usually assumes : it comes before us speak- 
ing great things of Christ and grace, and ascribing all the 
glory of salvation to them alone. It almost professes to 
open the Lamb's Book of Life, and to read therein the very 
names of its adherents. It takes up the case of the weary 
and heavy-laden sinner, and interprets all his feeling into 
proofs of his election and eternal justification. It goes into 
all the worst workings of the heart, and teaches those who 
are conscious of them, that they must be the children of 
God, because they notice these things. Now, as all the 
truly serious are conscious of much indwelling sin, and of 



THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 77 

many imperfections ; and as these things often destroy or 
damp their hope of salvation ; and as they naturally wish to 
feel assured of their safety ; it is a strong temptation to 
them, when any one offers to prove their election from the 
very facts which lead them to doubt it. And the proposal 
to do so, is the more plausible, because the pretence is, that 
the sole design is to exalt the Saviour and to humble the 
sinner — to glorify God and give peace through the blood of 
the Cross — to endear the everlasting Covenant, and honour 
the Eternal Spirit. All this is so like the glorious Gospel, 
and embraces so much of its grand design, that one can 
hardly think of suspecting its truth or its tendency. And 
as the truly serious do not intend to apply this offered re- 
lief to any bad purpose, but merely to get over their doubts 
and fears by it ; and as they wish for no liberty to sin — 
this easy and speedy way of reaching assurance becomes 
very tempting to them, especially if they are under a min- 
istry which does not clearly show them " a better way." 
For the fact is, an awakened conscience and a wounded 
spirit will seek relief somewhere ; and, if they do not find 
it in low doctrinal sentiments, they will grasp at it in high, 
and take it from any thing rather than sink into despair. If, 
therefore, they find that the ministry which has wounded, 
does not heal them, or that it makes salvation by faith ap- 
pear quite as difficult to obtain as salvation by works would 
be, and thus brings them no nearer to their object ; it is no 
wonder if they try another ministry, and even welcome one 
which turns their doubts and perplexities, as well as their 
desires, into proofs of faith, and tokens of safety. 

It is in this way that many are drawn into Antinomian 
principles. Their object, at first was chiefly to get hold of 
something which would give rest to their souls ; and, as 
that kind of preaching which makes saving faith appear 
quite as impossible as perfect obedience, did not relieve 
them, but rather tantalized them by a remedy which whilst 
it was called free, was kept back until their works should 
demonstrate their faith, they were glad to grasp at any thing 
7* 



78 THE HOPE OF SALVATION. 

which promised speedier relief. Accordingly, when they 
were assured that their fears and desires, and even their 
very doubts, were the work of the Spirit in them ; and that 
his work in the soul is the warrant to believe that the death 
of Christ and the decree of God were for the soul ; — this 
nostrum met all their difficulties. For as they could say, 
with perfect truth, that they felt and desired, under the 
Gospel, as they had never done before ; and as this state of 
mind was declared to be the effect of Divine influence, and 
thus a proof of their election and redemption ; — such doc- 
trine might well please them. But, at this stage of their 
experience, the Gospel itself would have pleased them bet- 
ter, if it had been as plainly brought before them; because, 
then, they were in search of nothing but the hope of salva- 
tion, and wanted no relief from the rules, but only from the 
curse, of the law. Had they, therefore, been directed, at 
that moment, to the Divine Testimony concerning the per- 
son and work of Christ ; and had they been shown clearly, 
from the Scriptures, that the cordial belief of that testimony 
is saving faith ; and that faith itself warrants immediate 
hope ; this would have met all their difficulties, without lay- 
ing asleep their watchfulness, or their fear of sin. 

Well : you see all this, if you have taken up the hope of 
salvation at the Cross simply by relying on Christ for it. 
You have, therefore, no occasion to meddle with the un- 
scriptural nostrums of those who put the work of the Spirit 
in the room of the work of Christ, and give that place to 
election which the Cross alone occupies in the Gospel. 
You have no occasion to shift the position of things in the 
" well ordered" Covenant, before you can enter into the ark 
of it. " Ye have not so learned Christ," from these pages, 
as to feel it necessary to have another warrant than the 
Word of God, for believing on Christ for your own justifica- 
tion. Whatever comfort you want, you can find it more 
readily, and more abundantly in the single fact, " that he 
who believeth hath eternal life," than in all the boasted 
consolations of Antinomianism, — the very first principle of 



I 



DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 79 

which is wrong, inasmuch as it substitutes feelings for 
faith. And whenever you want to see the grand fallacy 
and infamy of this system, you have only to observe that 
the very first promise of that new Covenant, which it pre- 
tends to venerate so much, is at utter and eternal variance 
with the rejection of the law as a rule of life. That first 
promise is, " / will put my laws in their hearts, &nd write 
them in their minds, saith the Lord :" a fact which is fatal to 
all unholy applications of the doctrines of grace. In a 
word, real Antinomianism is the hope of a salvation from 
that holy salvation, which is " the end" of election, redemp- 
tion, and regeneration. 



No. VIII. 

DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 

No man knows himself, who is not in the habit of exam- 
ining himself ; and no man examines himself impartially, 
who does not place himself under the omniscient eye of 
God, and thus invite and submit to divine scrutiny. Our 
hearts are too deep to be fathomed by our conscience, and 
too deceitful to be unmasked by our judgment. Indeed, 
the heart can blind and pervert both the judgment and the 
conscience. Hence the necessity of carrying the whole 
soul to be searched and tried by God, even after all our 
efforts to examine ourselves : for, until we are alone and 
upon our knees before the Searcher of hearts, we are both 
liable and sure to impose on ourselves. We may, indeed, 
know, from observation and experience, what is our weak 
side, or our besetting sin, and thus have a general idea of 
our real character ; but how weak that side is, or how 
strong that sin is, we are not fully aware, until we look at 
them in the light of God. Accordingly we have found 
them to be greater, and have been betrayed by them oftener, 



80 DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 

than we suspected at first. They have carried us farther 
than we calculated upon, and led us into more wrong steps 
than we anticipated, at first. Yes ; and both our weak 
side and our besetting sin, if left to themselves, are quite 
capable of hurrying us as much beyond any evil which we 
now fear, as they were of drawing us into those evils 
which we now deplore. For, what our hearts are thus led 
to by their own propensities, is only a specimen of the 
direction, rather than of the lengths, they are inclined to 
go, when allowed to take their own way. Now, if we 
must say already, that our hearts have gone too far astray ; 
and if we believe that they are naturally " deceitful above 
all things, and desperately wicked ;" it is high time to take 
measures for the prevention and cure of their evil tenden- 
cies. And, for these purposes, the habit of self-examination 
in the sight of the omniscient God, is equally necessary 
and useful. 

David furnishes an example of this devotional habit, 
which will illustrate at once these introductory hints. He 
was an attentive observer and scrutinizer of himself, espe- 
cially after his restoration to the Divine favour. From that 
time, his " soul" was, as it were, " continually in his hand ;" 
his " spirit made diligent search ; he communed" with his 
own heart even "upon his bed," and considered his ways. 
Now, this was self-examination, in the ordinary sense of 
the duty ; but he did not stop there. Fie knew and be- 
lieved the deceitfulness of his heart too well, to trust its 
verdict in his own cause ; and, therefore, followed up his 
own scrutiny by praying, " Search me, God, and know 
my heart ; try me and know my thoughts ; and see if there 
be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way ever- 
lasting." Thus, that there might be no deception, he sol- 
emnly put his case into the hands, and under the eye, of 
God. This was impartial, because devotional, self-exami- 
nation. 

Having referred to this example, as an illustration of the 
subject, it may be well to glance at the principles of. it. 



DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 81 

Now, the prayer, " Search me and try me," recognises, as 
an unquestionable truth, the omniscience of Jehovah, and 
proceeds upon the solemn fact, that " all things are naked 
and open to the eyes of Him with whom they have to do." 
It was, however, by realizing the scrutiny of this omnis- 
cience in his own case, that David understood how it ex- 
tended to all creatures, times, and places. "Thou hast 
searched and known me" is the point from which he start- 
ed, in his way to the sublime and awful conclusion, " The 
darkness and the light are both alike to Thee." And the 
conclusion is just ; for if David's heart, in all its recesses, 
was naked and open unto God, all hearts and all things 
must be equally visible to Him ; because the power which 
can search one, can search all ; and the reason for search- 
ing any heart, holds good in the case of all hearts. God 
is the Judge of all ; and, as the secrets of every hean 
will be brought into judgment, none can escape his notice. 
Each may, therefore, say to himself, "Lord, thou hast 
searched and known me :" others may guess what I am, from 
what I seem ; and argue from what my life is, what my 
heart must be : " but lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether :'' 
thou art not deceived, nor at any loss, whoever may be so ! 
Now with this solemn conviction clinging to him like his 
shadow — why did David pray thus, " Search me, O God, 
and know my heart ; try me, and know my thoughts ?" He 
had just acknowledged that God had done so already, and 
fully ; for he does not say, Search me more than thou hast 
ever done. The reason is obvious : God searches all ; but 
he does not lead all " in the way everlasting." Some are 
given up to their own hearts' lusts, and thus led captive by 
the devil, at his will, when they refuse to be led by the 
Spirit. David knew this : and, as his object was to walk 
in the way of salvation, his prayer was, that he might be 
so searched as to escape every " wicked way." And there 
is a special and gracious searching of the heart, the results 
of which God shows to them who fear Him; thus dis- 
covering to them, what he discovers in them. Not, indeed, 



82 DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 

that He shows them at once all that he sees in them : the 
most holy could not sustain the full sight of all the plagues 
of their own hearts. God, therefore, reveals them gradu- 
ally to his people, that the appalling sight may not over- 
whelm their hopes of sanctification. He does, however, 
show so much, from time to time, as to convince believers 
that their own hearts are not to be trusted, even to their 
own examination ; but require, in order to be upright in all 
things, to be searched by the eye of Omniscience. 

Now, it is a good sign, when we are afraid of self-decep- 
tion, and court the scrutiny of God ; when we are willing 
to know the worst of our own case, and desirous to judge 
impartially ; and when for this purpose, we call in the eye 
of God to search us. For, by thus examining ourselves, 
and submitting to Divine examination, Believers are distin- 
guished. 

First, From the Formalist, who takes no notice of the 
state of his heart in religion. It is indeed, strange, that 
any can be so infatuated, as to forget the necessity of wor- 
shipping a Spirit, " in spirit and in truth :" but, alas ! it is 
forgotten and overlooked. Many, like the Jews of old, go 
to the sanctuary of God, and " sit as his people sit, and 
hear as they hear ; but their hearts are far from him." 
This is no sweeping charge : for, if their hearts were 
" right with God," they would worship him at home as well 
as in the sanctuary ; and in the sanctuary by sacraments, as 
well as by prayer or praise. But how few compass the 
family or sacramental altar, or retire to pray in secret to 
Him who seeth in secret ! All this may, indeed, be done, 
by mere formalists ; but, when all this is neglected, there 
certainly is none of the " power" of godliness, nor any 
habit of self-examination. It is, therefore, a good sign, 
when the claims of all duties are seriously weighed, and 
the state of the heart towards and in them is chiefly re- 
garded. This distinguishes Believers. 

Secondly, From the Reckless Professor, who dare not 
search his own heart. Some have the hardihood to con- 



DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. S3 

tinue at the sacrament, even after they have discovered that 
their convictions were not conversion, nor their first reso- 
lutions, principles. They depart from their closets and give 
up the power of godliness ; but there is no departure from 
the Lord's table. Conscience says to them, " Keep back, 
or begin on new principles ;" and thus, like Balaam's angel, 
waves a drawn sword between them and a sacrament for 
which they have no relish. But Pride says, " Keep your 
place and your name ; defeat suspicion, by defying it ; keep 
up appearances, whatever it cost, for it is too mortifying to 
expose yourself by your own act of withdrawing !" Now, 
in such a case, the heart dare not examine itself before 
God, but is afraid of its own whispers, and conscious that 
a full disclosure of its secrets, even to itself, would be al- 
most as humiliating as the exposure of them to others. Thus, 
the matter will not bear thinking of, and therefore appear- 
ances are kept up at all hazards, by shutting the eyes upon 
the hazards. 

This fearful state of mind must not, however, be con- 
founded with those occasional misgivings of heart, which 
the serious feel in regard to the reality of their own conver- 
sion, and their right to the sacrament. There is an immense 
difference between habitual recklessness, and occasional 
disrelish; especially when the want of relish is deeply 
deplored, and the causes of it are searched out. All is not 
wrong, while self-examination is kept up, and while what 
is wrong is dreaded and hated. Like an erring but affec- 
tionate child, a believer may feel himself in disgrace ; but, 
while he feels out of his element, and is trying to return 
into his rest, his case is not hopeless, because it is not 
heartless nor heedless. In like manner, the habit of self- 
examination in the presence of God distinguishes its adhe- 
rents. 

Thirdly, From the Inconsistent Professor, who is un- 
willing to be led out of every " wicked way." David prayed 
thus : — « See if there be any wicked way in me, and lead 
me in the way everlasting." Thus he was so jealous of his 



84 DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 

heart, that he suspected that some wicked way would be 
overlooked, unless God prevented it. Now, this is the 
grand characteristic of " faith unfeigned :" it is impartial, 
and willing to be kept back from all sin. A real Christian 
may, indeed, feel a strong bias to some of his old sins, and 
a shrinking from some duties ; and, alas ! for a time he may 
even risk the experiment of serving " two masters" by turns ; 
but when he finds — which he soon does by bitter experience, 
— that half measures will not do, and that a divided heart 
misses enjoyment in religion, and that yielding to tempta- 
tion or sloth is destruction to hope and peace — he is glad to 
retrace his steps to the narrow way again, and to yield him- 
self unreservedly to God and duty. Now, although this is 
not done without a struggle, nor always soon — it is done, 
eventually, by all who are attentive to their own hearts, and 
to the baneful influence of inconsistencies upon them. The 
self-examining believer determines to be consistent whatever 
it costs in effort or sacrifice. He would rather suffer, than 
sin against God and a good conscience. Now, this high 
and holy tone of gracious principle and godly practice, is 
acquired chiefly by scrutinizing the heart in the presence 
of God. It is not acquired from the social intercourse of 
Christian friends, nor even from heart-searching sermons : 
these, indeed, suggest the necessity of self-examination, and 
are the chief means of leading to it ; but it is in the act of 
devotional examination, that God shows with " power" what 
is wrong, and with " glory" what is right. Accordingly, it 
was in the closet, and whilst retired within ourselves, and 
whilst realizing the presence of God, and whilst looking at 
all sin in the light of eternity — it was whilst thus engaged, 
that every sin, fault, and wrong habit, rose before us in 
hideous and horrid deformity ! Then we wept, and won- 
dered that we ever thought lightly of " any wicked way ;" 
and felt our souls swelling up in holy indignation against 
all vice and vanity. 

And, by the same process, we acquired those clear and 
affecting views of the way of holiness, which won us into it. 



DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 85 

Whilst we looked at " the narrow way," in the company of 
those who shun it, or in the light of worldly maxims, we 
thought it too narrow, and saw many lions in the way, and 
felt as if it were impossible to walk in it : but when we re- 
tired to our closets, and betook ourselves to prayer, that Ave 
might examine and weigh these mingled feelings and ob- 
jections, which looked so formidable in company — the path 
of holiness expanded before us as it really is — guarded by 
eternal Providence, gilded with great and precious promises, 
graced by the presence of many illustrious pilgrims, glorious 
with the footsteps of the Saviour himself, and terminating 
directly in the heaven of heavens. We saw, also, that none 
sank on " the way everlasting," nor perished at the end of 
it, who kept in it ; and that those were happiest who ad- 
hered to it most strictly ; and that all were ruined who for- 
sook it ; and, between this twofold " cloud of witnesses," 
we resolved to follow holiness. Thus, we have often come 
from our closets, saying to ourselves, " Let whoever will, 
try dangerous experiments, the example of the Saviour shall 
be our guiding pillar of cloud by day, and of fire by night : 
our hearts are ' fixed' by searching, and we will ' follow the 
Lamb in the path of regeneration.' " 

It is thus that the habit of devotional self-examination sets 
and keeps both sin and duty in their true light. It is, how- 
ever, wanted for other purposes. Accordingly, God says, 
" Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith ; prove 
your ownselves ; know ye not your ownselves, how that 
Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates :"that is, without 
proof of the Saviour's presence. The word " Reprobates" 
is not used here in the modern sense. It means now, in 
common language, " reckless profligates," or " abandoned 
sinners ;" and is suspected by some, who judge the sense 
from the sound of it, to countenance the doctrine of Repro- 
bation, as they call it. They mean by that, the ruin and 
loss of the soul by the sovereign decree of God ; — a doctrine 
not even breathed in the Bible. What it teaches, is, the 
judicial reprobation of those who weary out the patience of 
8 



86 DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 

God by impenitence and rebellion. Such he abandons 
eventually to a reprobate mind, and to a seared conscience, 
and to their own heart's lusts ; and thus to ruin. But the 
ruin comes not from a sovereign decree, but from the sen- 
tence of the law and the sanctions of the Gospel. This is 
the real state of the case ; and therefore a man is not a 
reprobate in this sense, even if he is not in the faith yet, 
and although Christ is not in him. I mean, that he is not, 
on that account, decreed to ruin, nor given up by God. All 
unbelievers are, indeed, condemned already ; but it is be- 
cause of unbelief, and not beyond redemption. 

This being understood, the most timid have no occasion 
to shrink from examining themselves by the test applied to 
the Corinthians ; for even if you should not be able to 
prove, to your own satisfaction, that you are in the faith, 
nor that Christ is in you — still, whilst Christ is upon the 
throne of grace, and whilst faith is the gift of God, your 
case is not hopeless. This, however, is but the lowest 
view of the case. Those who are in real earnest to be 
found in Christ, are not utter strangers either to the exer- 
cise of faith or to the indwelling of Christ in the heart. 
They may be afraid to call their own believing faith ; and 
may not understand the precise meaning of Christ's indwel- 
ling presence : but it does not follow, from these mistakes, 
that they are without proofs of faith or love. They have 
often more proofs of both than they imagine, or are aware 
of, until they examine themselves. — Now, so may you. 
The first sight of the question, " Am I in the faith ? may 
startle } r ou ; because, knowing faith to be the point on 
which salvation turns, and feeling your own unworthiness 
of so great a salvation, your are afraid to say " Yes" But, 
observe : — -you are equally afraid to say " No." You leave 
the question unanswered in words ; but you continue to act 
as if you were " in the faith." You do not cease to hope, 
even when you hesitate to say that you believe. You even 
strive to live as a believer, although you do not venture to 
assume the name. Yea, more : no one could persuade you 



DEVOTIONAL SELF-EXAMINATION. 87 

to give up your habits of looking to, and leaning upon, the 
Saviour. You shrink with horror from the bare idea of 
disowning or deserting him. You have no wish to forsake 
him ; and when you feel tempted to do so, your unfeigned 
answer is, " Lord, to whom shall I go ? Thou only hast 
the words of eternal life." Accordingly, since you saw 
your need of an interest in his blood, and felt the value of 
salvation, you have been unwilling and unable to forget 
Christ. — Thoughts of him, and desires after him, have fol- 
lowed you like your shadow, more or less every day ; and 
nothing would please you more than to be able to think 
and feel in regard to him, as you wish. 

Well ; this being the case, you cannot begin too soon to 
" examine" whether you " be in the faith ;" for the result 
is sure to be favourable. Yes ; examination in the sight 
of God will discover to you, that it has been given to you, 
on behalf of Christ, to believe on him with the heart unto 
salvation. But nothing else will discover this, to your per- 
manent satisfaction. You may gather, from these marks of 
faith, a general idea that you are in the faith ; but the con- 
clusion, even if just, will not last long. It must be drawn 
upon your knees, and with your heart bared to the inspec- 
tion of God, if you would have it lasting. And, in his pres- 
ence, as in the prospect of death, the question, " Am I in 
the faith V is fairly met. The soul dare not trifle nor 
equivocate, when placed under the eye of Omniscience ; 
but must go fully into the inquiry. It spreads and pours 
itself out, all over the question. And when, in this light, 
it is seen that the cordial belief of the Gospel, for holy pur- 
poses, is saving faith ; and when it is felt, through all the 
soul, that we do believe its truth, and love its holiness ; — 
our satisfaction is unspeakable ! For then, we know and 
feel persuaded that we are not flattering ourselves, nor judg- 
ing rashly. The whole matter is so fully laid before God, 
and God is so fully before our minds, that self-deception 
seems impossible. We have " the witness" in ourselves, 
that, like the first believers, we " gladly receive" the Gos- 



88 THE TEMPTATIONS AND 

pel. We are, indeed, amazed, and thrown into almost 
breathless silence, during these hallowed moments, to find 
that believing is faith, and that faith itself warrants the 
hope of salvation there and then. But we do find all this 
to be true ! All our recollections, both of the letter and 
spirit of the Scriptures, rush in to confirm it. The whole 
Bible rises before us as one brilliant and unbroken illustra- 
tion of the grand fact — that salvation " is of faith, that it 
might be by grace." And, having seen all this in the light 
of the Divine presence, we retire from our closets with the 
old apostolic melody in our hearts and lips, " Therefore, 
being justified by faith , We have peace with God" 



No. IX. 

THE TEMPTATIONS AND FIERY DARTS OF SATAN. 

Amongst those words with which the truly serious as- 
sociate the most awful and alarming ideas, the word Tempt- 
ation is one of the chief. And well it may make every 
ear tingle, and every heart tremble ! Temptation is, indeed, 
thought of, and spoken of, lightly, by the bulk of mankind : 
but this is no proof that they who do so are superior to it, 
or that they resist it. Many strong men — yea, many 
mighty men — have fallen by it. Men ! yea, angels, have 
been overthrown by it in the very heaven of heavens. 
Even their immortal powers and celestial advantages were 
not a sufficient balance to the weight of temptation. Like 
a serpent, it wound itself around the pillars of their thrones 
of light, coiled its folds upon their harps of gold, crept into 
their bosom ; and having thus drawn aside a third part of 
the stars of heaven, it hurled them, at one sweep, into "the 
blackness of darkness for ever." The man, therefore, who 
thinks so lightly of temptation as not to be afraid of it, 



FIERY DARTS OF SATAN. 89 

ought to place himself, in idea, amongst those once "morn- 
ing stars," whilst they shone around the eternal throne as 
emanations of the Father of lights, and served him day and 
night without weariness : and whilst witnessing them sing- 
ing and shining in their bright orbits, and all linked unto 
God as if they had been rays of his glory ; he would then 
see and feel what strength, what motives, what innocence, 
temptation could overmatch and overwhelm. And then, 
let him look to the dark and desolate orbits of those falling 
morning stars ; to their present chains of darkness, and to 
their future prospects : and if, after this survey of heaven 
and hell, he is still not afraid of temptation, he must surely 
suspect that he is less than a man, or fancy himself to be 
more than an angel. 

All this, however, although the strongest, is not the most 
affecting light in which to view our own danger from tempt- 
ation. Which of the mightiest human names has not 
temptation left a stain and a stigma upon ? Noah ? — Ah, 
you recollect his wine. Abraham ? — His equivocation. 
Moses? — His impatience. Aaron? — His unbelief. Jacob? 
— His stratagem. The Patriarchs ? — Their treatment of 
Joseph. Elijah? — His murmuring. David? — His fall. 
Hezekiah ? — His ostentation. Jonah ? — His rebellion. 
Peter ? — His denial of Christ. And if these mighty men 
fell, let him that standeth take heed lest he fall also. Let 
not him that putteth on the harness, boast himself as he who 
putteth it off. We shall not be fully beyond the reach of 
all danger, until we are fairly through the valley of the 
shadow of death ; for even in it, the fiery darts of Satan 
sometimes fly thick, and flash dreadfully. Only when we 
are " clean over" the swellings of Jordan, will there be 
" nothing" in us for Satan to work upon. 

Were, indeed, simplicity of heart, and gracious prin- 
ciples, preventives, or absolute safeguards, against all 
temptations, some might escape ; but even innocence, in 
Eden, was not an effectual shield against the fiery darts of 
Satan. Innocence ! even incarnate divinity, was not ex- 
8* 



90 THE TEMPTATIONS AND 

empt from assault, though superior to seduction ; for the 
Saviour was assailed and harassed by Satan, until his hu- 
man nature required angels to minister unto its exhausted 
strength. 

Some who readily subscribe to the truth of all this, do it 
for a bad purpose, and argue thus : — " If such men fell, we 
cannot be expected to stand always, nor to exceed them in 
resisting the devil." But this is mere sophistry and self- 
deception ; for those who fell, fell by no necessity but what 
they themselves created. Satan has power to say, " Cast 
thyself down !" but he has not power to throw down any 
one who is doing " all to stand." Had Noah been as 
watchful after planting a vineyard, as before, he would not 
have fallen by wine. Had David made and kept such " a 
covenant with his eyes" as Job did, he would not have cov- 
eted his " neighbour's wife." Had Peter confined himself 
to the company of his fellow-disciples, he would not have 
been in the same danger of denying his Master with oaths, 
as when he mingled with the enemies of Christ. Besides, 
one chief cause of the fall of these, otherwise, good men, 
was that they evidently never allowed themselves to sus- 
pect' that they were in danger of falling by such tempta- 
tions. It is highly probable, that had any one warned 
them against the sins which overcame them, each of them 
would have said, " Is thy servant a dog that he should do 
this thing V Thus, there are two things necessary, in or- 
der to resist temptation successfully ; — doing all to stand, 
and being afraid of falling ; for if we are not afraid of fal- 
ling, we shall not take unto ourselves "the whole armour of 
God," that we may be "able to stand." 

Amongst those temptations of Satan to which we are 
chiefly exposed, and which are emphatically his " fiery 
darts," one is, the temptation to Atheism or Infidelity. 
Now, whenever the horrid suspicion that there is "no- 
God," or that the Bible is not to be depended on, comes in 
like a flood upon the mind, it is a fiery dart of Satan ; and 
he alone has the guilt of it, whilst the mind hates or de- 



FIERY DARTS OF SATAN. 91 

plores it. Unless, indeed, we have been exposing our- 
selves by reading skeptical books, and listening to scorners ; 
then, the guilt of infidel thoughts is chiefly our own. But 
when they are thrown into the soul, unsought and unawares, 
and thrown after the soul when it is retreating from them, 
— the archer, and not the " wounded spirit," is the criminal, 
in that case. We are personally accountable only for those 
temptations which we court, connive at, or yield to. The 
Saviour was tempted of the devil to impatience, presump- 
tion, and idolatry ; but as he had not exposed himself to 
these fiery darts, and did not yield to them, but repelled 
them, he was nowise accountable for them. 

This distinction is strongly stated ; but it is wanted, in 
all its strength, when the mind is overwhelmed by distract- 
ing doubts of the being of God or the truth of Revelation. 
In that case, it seems to ourselves improbable, if not im- 
possible, that we had ever believed " with the heart ;" see- 
ing, that now, we are almost ready to give up faith in God, 
and to regard all things as a chaos of mere chance ! We 
argue thus : " Surely, if I had been taught by the Spirit of 
God, and at all renewed in the spirit of my own mind, I 
should be incapable of harbouring or starting such atheisti- 
cal thoughts. They would not surely come into ' a new 
heart.' Are they not symptoms of a reprobate mind 1" 
This, however, is a mistake ; they are " the fiery darts" of 
Satan, and not the real sentiments of our own minds. Ac- 
cordingly, we do not think these doubts well-founded. We 
do not wish them to be true. Nothing would pain us so 
much as finding that there was no God, or no Bible, or no 
Hereafter ! However much, therefore, we may be harass- 
ed by these dark suspicions, they are not our sin, but our 
misfortune, so long as we shrink from them, and try to 
shake them off. At the same time, we are not altogether 
blameless in this matter ; for, had we acquainted and fa- 
miliarized ourselves more fully with the Evidences of na- 
tural and revealed religion, Satan would not have found it 
60 easy to unsettle our thoughts. Hence the importance of 



92 THE TEMPTATIONS AND 

preventing the return of this temptation, by acquiring a more 
full and connected view of the grounds of faith. 

Another "fiery dart" of Satan is, the temptation to 
Blasphemy. Now, although every thing is not blasphemy, 
which is called so by custom, we are not wrong in regard- 
ing, as blasphemous, all those thoughts which impeach the 
character or the government of God. There are things in 
both which clash with our natural ideas of propriety ; and, 
when they clash with our inclinations too, Satan can so 
magnify what we dislike in the Divine character and gov- 
ernment, that we are in great danger of thinking and speak- 
ing against God. " I do well to be angry," said Jonah, 
when God caused his gourd to wither. " Verily, I have 
cleansed my heart in vain," said Asaph, when he saw that 
the " ungodly" prospered in the world, and that he himself 
was " chastened every morning." Now all these things 
happen still, and Satan turns them into strong temptations 
when they happen to ourselves. The gourds of our shel- 
ter and solace wither sometimes in the night, and we are 
left exposed and lonely, whilst the gourds of the ungodly 
are almost evergreens : or our plans and undertakings are 
unsuccessful, whilst those who have no fear of God before 
their eyes, seem to have every thing their own way, and 
sometimes more than heart could wish. Thus, between the 
apparent inequalities of Providence and our own actual suf- 
ferings, we are tempted to murmur, and, at times, almost to 
arraign the justice of God. Indeed, there are moments of 
such agitation, when Satan aggravates these calamities, 
that the heart seems to harden under them, and the soul to 
become reckless of consequences. Who has not felt that 
fiery dart flash across a wounded spirit — " Let God do his 
worst, for I cannot be more miserable than I am already ?" 
These are awful moments, when the soul is almost ready to 
take its swing amongst all the risks of time and eternity, 
and, like the " unjust judge," to give up both the fear of 
God and regard for man ! Oh ! it is well that, when Sa- 
tan comes in such u great wrath," his time is short : and it 



FIERY DARTS OF SATAN. 93 

is better, that the good Shepherd holds his tempted and ter- 
rified sheep so, that the roaring lion cannot devour them, 
nor pluck them out of their Shepherd's hand. 

At such moments, indeed, we hardly venture to regard 
ourselves as the sheep of Christ : we seem to ourselves 
goats, going to his " left hand," of our own accord, and 
" before our time." Accordingly, it is not until we come to 
our " right mind" again, that we can even join his flock in 
the green pastures of Zion. " But," it may be said, " can 
any sheep or Lamb of the Saviour's flock sink into such 
reckless desperation, even for a moment ?" Perhaps, not 
sink into it ; but they may be goaded into it by the fiery 
darts of Satan. Indeed, when the character of God comes 
to be judged of by his trying dispensations, instead of his 
dispensations being judged of by his character, Satan finds 
that in the heart to work upon, which can soon wind it up 
to desperation. Those who have never seen much of real 
life, or never looked at it closely, may be astonished at this. 
It is, however, only too true : and hence the necessity of a 
settled conviction in our minds, that God must not be judged 
of by our trials. Job saw and felt this, when he said, 
" Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him." And we 
have always reason to do so, whatever be our calamities ; 
for, even when he chastises in anger, the anger is not mixed 
with hatred, but with love. Whenever, therefore, Satan 
suggest, from our afflictions, any reflection or charge against 
the Divine character, we ought immediately to shut our 
hearts against it ; and, as those who are conscious of lov- 
ing God, to answer, " Get thee behind me, Satan ; for all 
things work together for good to them that love God !" 

It is not, however, in times of calamity only, that Satan 
hurls his fiery darts against the soul. The temptation to 
find fault with the Sovereignty of Grace, is often greatest 
when Providence is most smiling ; at least, when it is not 
adverse. Satan seems, then, to envy the pleasure which 
the fearers of God find in the ways of God ; and, as he 
cannot forge fiery darts out of their lot then, he often draws 



94 THE TEMPTATIONS AND 

them from the decrees of God. How far we ourselves are 
naturally prone to pry into " secret things," and to tamper 
with the abstract question of personal election, I do not stop 
to inquire now. One thing is certain, that, whether prone 
or averse, almost all serious minds get entangled more or 
less with the question at times. Who has not felt his 
thoughts drawn into some such track as the following : — 
" True ; 1 am now more reconciled to the salvation and 
service of God than I once was : I am even willing to 
walk in the narrow way which leadeth unto life ; — but eter- 
nal life ' is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, 
but of God that showeth mercy ; and He will have mercy 
only upon whom he will have mercy.' If, therefore, I am 
not elected — ^neither my willing nor my running can avail 
me. I may be lost at last, whatever I do ! Oh ! why is 
sovereignty the rule of mercy ?" 

Whenever Satan can get the soul this length in question- 
ing or suspecting the good will of God, he soon entangles 
it in a labyrinth of rash or dark speculations which harden 
or horrify the mind. I state this in general terms, because 
it would be improper to embody, in express words, all the 
dreadful surmises and charges against God, which rise up 
in tLe mind at such times. Those who have felt them, need 
no* remembrancer, and those who are strangers to them 
cannot be too long ignorant of them. When, however, the 
question of personal election is borne in, and bound upon 
the soul, like a heavy chain, which checks and weighs 
down hope ; and when " the iron enters into the soul," so 
that it knows not what to do or what to think ; — the best 
thing which can be done in such a case is, to ask the sim- 
ple question, " Has ever any one found out his own elec- 
tion by brooding over the matter as I am doing ? Many 
have acquired a cheering persuasion that their names were 
" written in the Lamb's book of life :' did they obtain the 
hope of this by such a process as I am pursuing? I am 
afraid to pray, and have no heart to use the ordinary means 
of grace ; because I am not sure what will be the issue. 



FIERY DARTS OF SATAN. 95 

Was this Paul's plan, was this the line of conduct which the 
apostles pointed out to inquirers ? No ! It cannot, there- 
fore, lead me to the point I wish to reach. I have, indeed, 
instead of trying to enter into ' the secret of the Lord' by 
the *■ door,'' been trying to ' climb up some other way.' 
This is wrong !" 

Are you, then, persuaded that it is wrong? Well ; con- 
sider again, that none of all whom you have known to die 
in the Lord, or know to be the Lord's, had any knowledge 
of their election when they first fled to Christ, and began to 
follow him. Whatever they know now, they were, for a 
time, as ignorant on this point as you can be ; and whatever 
they have found out, was discovered in the path of duty, and 
nowise apart from the use of the Scriptures. Ask them — 
and they will tell you so. Do you, then, really imagine 
that it is necessary, or that, it would be wise to reveal to you 
a matter which, for a time, is kept hid from all the heirs of 
salvation? Must God, to humour your curiosity, alter his 
plan of acting under the gospel ? The old and usual plan 
has done well enough for millions and myriads, who had 
both more to do and to suffer than you have. I do not un- 
derrate your trials nor your perplexities ; but I must remind 
you that better soldiers have had to fight and die upon the 
bare ground of hope ; so that, if you will not begin the spir- 
itual warfare without assurance, you will never begin it at 
all. 

Besides ; do consider that, if you had the assurance of 
your own personal election, it would not alter the path of 
duty in the least. It would unbind nothing that is binding 
on Christians. It would not prevent trials, nor exempt you 
from temptations. It would, indeed, I grant, cheer you in 
the path of duty and suffering, to know that you were 
chosen and called to eternal life ; and thus, although not 
absolutely necessary to your success, it is certainly desira- 
ble for your comfort. I will even go farther, and affirm, 
(for the Word of God bears me out in doing so,) that you 
will do and suffer the will of God better when you know 



96 FIERYDARTSOFSATAN. 

your election of God. But, if you really want to know it 
for holy purposes, it is not such a secret as you have hith- 
erto imagined, nor as you were sure to find it, from the way 
you took to discover it. 

In fact, it is not a secret at all, so far as it regards those 
who have fled to Christ for a holy salvation : they are the 
elect of God. All that " love God" are " the called accord- 
ing to his purpose." This is expressly revealed, for their 
satisfaction on the point. If, therefore, it be a secret to 
you, it is so, either because you have not observed this 
simple fact, or because you still doubt the sincerity of your 
own faith and love. The scriptural fact, however, is now 
before you ; all true believers are the elect of God ; and, 
therefore, whatever reason you have to regard yourself as 
a believer, is proof of your personal election. You have 
no occasion to perplex yourself with the abstract question, 
if you are conscious of loving God and the Lamb ; for love 
to them settles the whole question in your case, and in all 
cases where love is genuine. What you have to do, there- 
fore, is simply to ascertain the sincerity of your faith and 
love ; and that may be soon done, if you take care to dis- 
tinguish between weakness and insincerity, and between im- 
perfection and pretence. Now, you know that your avowals 
of faith and love at the mercy-seat, and your desires for 
their increase, are not pretences, but the unfeigned language 
of your heart, addressed to the Searcher of hearts. Well ; 
his language to you is express — " / have loved thee with an 
everlasting love, therefore with loving kindness have I drawn 
thee? And let this be your answer to all the counter-sug- 
gestions of Satan. 



RELIGIOUS PEELING AND ENJOYMENT. 97 



No. X. 

THE FLUCTUATIONS OF RELIGIOUS FEELING 
AND ENJOYMENT. 

There are few things more distressing or discouraging 
to a serious mind, than the unsteadiness of its own feelings. 
These change so often and so much, that we hardly know 
what to think of ourselves at times. We wish to be feel- 
ingly alive to the glories of the Saviour and salvation — to 
the solemnities of death and eternity — and to the claims of 
duty and devotion ; but, somehow, the impression of these 
great realities is not abiding. — It seems often " ready to 
vanish away" from our minds. And yet, at times, the im- 
pression of eternal things is very deep. Occasionally, it 
seizes upon, and sinks into, the heart so fully, that we 
could not throw it off if we would ; and yet it soon passes 
off, even against our will. We do not intend to forget di- 
vine things, nor to become formal in religious duties ; but, 
alas ! we often do both, and find ourselves almost estranged 
from God and godliness ; so treacherous and changeable 
is the human mind, even after it has felt much of the pow- 
er of truth and eternity ! 

This melancholy fact naturally gives rise to a suspicion 
in our own breasts, that, whatever we have experienced, 
we are not yet truly converted to God ; for it seems im- 
possible to reconcile these sad changes of feelings with 
the possession of " the root of the matter." All our ordi- 
nary ideas of " a new heart and a right spirit," include the 
necessity of more habitual steadiness of purpose and 
strength of spiritual feeling. Accordingly, our relapses 
into deadness and formality induce a doubt, if not of our 
sincerity, of our conversion ; and thus all our pleasing 
hopes, which were drawn from the consciousness of rely- 
ing on Christ for a holy salvation, are almost upset, at 
times. They seem unwarranted in our case, because our 

VOL. i. — 9 



98 FLUCTUATIONS OF RELIGIOUS 

feelings are inconsistent with them, and with all our ideas 
of the saving work of the holy spirit upon the heart. The 
consequence is — we are often ready to conclude that we 
are too hasty in taking up the hope of salvation, and in 
giving ourselves credit for being converted characters. We 
are almost persuaded, at times, that it would have been bet- 
ter to have waited longer, before venturing to avow our re- 
ligious feelings to the world or to the church. We may 
not exactly repent of having said that we were in good 
earnest about the salvation of our souls ; but we have 
wished that we had said less, and thought more, on the 
•subject. 

In this painful dilemma many find themselves, and hard- 
ly know what to do or think in their own case. The sad 
unsteadiness of their religious feelings and resolutions 
keeps some back from the sacrament, and almost forces 
others away from it. One class are afraid to come, and 
another equally afraid to continue. The former are not 
easy in their absence from it, nor the latter easy in their 
attendance on it ; and both, whilst in this unhappy state of 
mind, derive but little benefit from the other ordinances of 
grace. 

Such being the fact of this case, it is of immense im- 
portance to both classes, that the subject of Fluctuating 
Religious Feelings should be cleared up to them without. 
reserve or delay. It is, however, a subject equally delicate 
and difficult ; for any view of it which would lead the se- 
rious to think lightly of the evil of dead or cold frames of 
mind, would do far more injury than these frames them- 
selves. For, bad as they are in themselves, and in their 
influence upon Christian character, they are not so baneful 
as a heedless disregard to the state of the heart. He who 
trembles at the treachery of his own heart, is humbled, as 
well as hindered, by it ; whereas he who is reconciled to 
a vacant mind and a worldly spirit, and thus, reckless how 
he feels, is sure to make shipwreck of faith and of a good 
conscience. The mourner over the plagues of his own 



FEELING AND ENJOYMENT. 99 

heart will, at least, not increase them ; but the man who re- 
gards them as mere matters of course, and thus allows them 
to take their swdng, will soon bring them out from the cen- 
tre of his heart to the surface of his life. 

Such being my own personal convictions, and, as far as 
I can ascertain it, the actual result of general experience 
on this subject, I am not likely to lessen either your fear or 
hatred of those melancholy changes of feelings which now 
pain and perplex you. I cannot, indeed, join with you in 
regarding them as utterly incompatible or inconsistent with 
the existence of saving faith in the heart ; but I am fully 
prepared to regard them, in reference to the spiritual health 
of the soul, as indicating, what similar bodily symptoms 
imply, the presence of disease. Now, all is not right, but 
much wrong, with the body, when there is a frequent loss of 
appetite, or a loathing of natural food, or a disposition to 
lethargy. In each of these cases there is abundant reason 
for fear and care. Accordingly, we are both fearful and 
careful, when such symptoms show themselves. But, even 
when they are most alarming, we never imagine that they 
disprove the former existence of life or health. Such an 
idea is too absurd to be admitted for a moment. Well ; in 
like manner, the loss of spiritual appetite and relish does 
not prove that we never had any. In fact, it just proves the 
contrary : for, as we know from having enjoyed bodily 
health, that there is a change for the worse when appetite 
fails ; so the felt and deplored loss of relish for divine 
things, proves that they were once enjoyed by the soul. 
Hence Job's piercing lamentation, " Oh, that it were with 
me as in months past /" is as much proof that " the can- 
dle of the Lord" had shone upon him, as that it was then 
eclipsed. 

Parallels between natural and spiritual life and health 
are, I am fully aware, hazardous grounds of argument when 
the object is to ascertain a point so solemn as the conversion 
of the soul to God ; for almost any bodily action or emo- 
tion proves the existence of natural life to a certainty : 



100 FLUCTUATIONS OP RELIGIOUS 

whereas there may be many moral feelings, which although 
they resemble spiritual feelings in some things, do not 
amount to spiritual life. There are, perhaps, very few per- 
sons amongst those who have sat under a faithful ministry 
of the Gospel, who have not felt both alarmed and allured, at 
times, by the appeals of the pulpit. It is not even uncommon 
to find persons completely enraptured, for some months or 
weeks, with a ministry which is full of Christ and grace, 
and so spiritual withal, that it seems impossible to love it, 
without loving the Saviour at the same time. But all this, 
we know, may be done without even leading to secret 
prayer. In like manner, it is quite possible to take a very 
lively interest in religious duties, and to be much pleased, 
for a considerable time, with prayer-meetings and spiritual 
conversation : and yet to remain unregenerate all the time. 
This is often proved, by the return of such persons to their 
old habits of indifference and neglect. But here is the dif- 
ference between them and the truly serious : — the former 
are not sorry to give up their new habits, nor unwilling to 
return to their old ways ; but rather glad than otherwise, to 
rid themselves of religious restraints : whereas the latter 
cannot bear the idea of going back to the world, nor feel 
easy when their hearts are becoming worldly. There may 
be sad changes for the worse in the state of their feelings ; 
but these make their heart sad, and humble them before 
God. They count it not gain, but a heavy, heavy Joss, to 
get free from the holy influence of any religious principle or 
motive. It is no pleasure to them, but an acute pain, to 
feel that either the Gospel or the Law is losing any of its 
authority over them. In a word, it is their chief burden 
and terror to feel less affected by divine things than at first. 
Now, when this is the real state of the case, and when, 
in connexion with this sense of loss and sin, there is a deep 
desire to return to the love and liveliness of former days, 
the changes do not disprove the reality of the faith or con- 
version of such mourners in Zion. Lukewarmness and 
the loss of relish in the service of God and the Lamb, prove, 



FEELING AND ENJOYMENT. 101 

indeed, much against such mourners ; but they do not prove 
them to be unbelievers, far less hypocrites. Bad frames of 
mind demonstrate that there has been some bad habit or 
temper indulged, or not sufficiently watched against ; and 
that there has been some want of prayer and prudence, and 
some yielding to sloth, or tampering with temptation ; and 
any of these causes of heartlessness are reasons for deep 
shame and humiliation, but not for despair. Despair can 
only make all that is bad, worse, and all that is discoura- 
ging, desperate ; because its direct tendency is to harden 
the heart. 

But whilst it is true that bad frames of spirit are never 
wholly unconnected with remissness of some kind, it is 
equally true that both they and their practical causes are 
connected with some misapprehension of the Gospel itself. 
There has been something doctrinal forgotten, or mistaken, 
or overlooked, as well as something practical neglected, 
whenever lukewarmness or disrelish takes possession of 
the heart. Either the object of faith, or the law of faith, 
is in some degree lost sight of or misunderstood, when the 
followers of the Lamb are heartless and formal. This is 
self-evident : because it is impossible for any man to believe 
that he himself is redeemed by the Wood of Christ, and thus 
made a child of God, and yet remain unfeeling towards God 
and the Lamb. Accordingly, so long as we venture to 
cherish the fond hope that we are " accepted in the Be- 
loved," we are not unfeeling in heart, nor formal in obedi- 
dience. Tt is when we forget or doubt that we are "justi- 
fied by faith," that we cease to have " peace with God," 
and sink into heartlessness in his service ; and therefore, 
the grand evangelical fact, that his " righteousness is upon 
all that believe," should never be forgotten or doubted by 
any one who is relying on Christ for a holy salvation. It 
is the duty as well as the privilege of all who have commit- 
ted their souls to Christ to believe that they are justified by 
believing on him ; because, in no other way can they ever 
obtain the joy of salvation. In fact, there is no other w$y; 
9* 



102 FLUCTUATIONS OF RELIGIOUS 

for whatever the Holy Spirit does in producing that joy, he 
does it by opening up this revealed truth to the mind, and 
enabling the soul to believe it in its own behalf. And this 
belief, although not essential to acceptance with God, is es- 
sential to " peace with God," and to the maintenance of a 
feeling heart in his service ; for no one can feel aright in 
all things, who does not believe aright in all those things 
which " belong to our peace." 

If, therefore, you never understood clearly this part of 
the Gospel, nor saw, in the handwriting of God, your own 
warrant to regard yourself as a child of God, it is no won- 
der that your best frames and feelings have not been last- 
ing. How could they last under the weakening and wast- 
ing influence of suspense ? What was there to maintain 
them in lively exercise, whilst you could not lay your hand 
upon the written promise of your own salvation ? Seeing 
the possibility of being saved, is, indeed, a " great sight," 
which may well awaken whole trains of sweet and solemn 
feelings in the bosom of a trembling sinner ; but these cannot, 
last long in their sweetness, unless he see too the probability 
of being saved. Even the desire of salvation, which is, 
perhaps, the most powerful feeling of a serious mind, must 
lose much of his power, if it can lay hold on nothing 
stronger than a " peradventure" to gratify it. The soul 
craves for more — the conscience needs more, than a may- 
be to satisfy them. Accordingly, if they are not satisfied, 
they soon fall asleep again, or return to their old portion. 

Here, then, is one great cause of the decline of spiritual 
relish ; — the spiritual appetite, when hungering and thirsting 
for salvation, is not taken direct to the Gospel for satisfac- 
tion, but tantalized by mere peradventures. Indeed, even 
prayer itself fails to keep up a happy frame of mind, when 
the mind has nothing else to look to but the bare probability 
of an eventual answer. Accordingly, if you have been 
doing nothing more than praying for salvation, it is really no 
wonder that your enjoyment has been both small and un- 
steady. Not, indeed, that you have prayed too much ; that 



FEELING AND ENJOYMENT. 103 

is impossible ; but because you have believed too little. 
God answers prayer by blessing his own Word to the soul ; 
and therefore it is as necessary to " search the Scriptures," 
as it is to cry for mercy. But if, instead of combining with 
prayer the study of the Gospel, that you might thus under- 
stand the salvation you have been seeking, you have gone 
on expecting that the pardon, and peace, and joy, which you 
wanted, would be infused, in some mysterious way, into 
your heart — your disappointment is a matter of course ; 
for you did not take God's plan of succeeding ; and the con- 
sequence is, the darkness and deadness which you com- 
plain of. In fact, confining the pursuit of salvation to pray- 
er alone, is almost enough to bring prayer itself to a speedy 
and final end ; for no man will persist long in fervent pray- 
er, if, after many strong cries and tears, he finds himself as 
far oft* as ever from hope and peace. He may not throw 
off the habit of it; but it will giadually fall ofT, if he gain 
nothing by it. Nor is this all the bad effect of disuniting 
faith from prayer ; the man who, after much prayer for 
pardon and peace, finds no sense, nor symptom, of either 
in his mind, is strongly tempted to abandon the pursuit as 
hopeless, and to suspect that God has singled him out as 
an exception to the rule, that " whosoever shall call on the 
name of the Lord shall be saved." And when this dark 
suspicion sets in upon his mind, it soon gives birth to still 
darker thoughts and feelings. And even when disappoint- 
ment does not occasion such horrid suspicions, it wears out 
the spirit of prayer, and weighs down all the best feelings 
of the heart. The sad reflection, " I obtain no answers to 
my prayers, and find no enjoyment in them now !" almost 
cuts the cords which first bound the soul to " the horns of 
the altar." And when such, or indeed any considerations, 
alienate the soul from secret devotion, they soon alter its 
gracious feelings and habits. 

Now, it is thus, chiefly, that matters go wrong in the 
heart of the serious ; they miss enjoyment by overlooking 
part of the Gospel, and thus lose much of their first love 



104 FLUCTUATIONS OF RELIGIOUS 

and liveliness. Other oversights concur, indeed, with this 
one, in producing and prolonging a low state of piety in the 
soul ; and nothing can restore the soul to spiritual health, 
which does not correct these practical oversights, and lead 
to watchfulness and diligence. Nothing, however, can re- 
store the soul to the joy of salvation, or to the power of 
godliness, but the Holy Spirit, by leading you " into all 
truth," for, until you have a personal hold upon the great 
salvation, it cannot have a permanent influence upon your 
heart. Now, such a hold of it you have either not obtain- 
ed, or you have lost it; and, whichever be the case, there 
is only one way of obtaining it, — namely, by the belief of 
all the truth. Watchfulness, without believing, will not 
make the heart happy, nor " right with God :" prayer, with- 
out believing, will not restore the joy of salvation. They 
may produce a state of mind and character, so devout, and 
humble, and upright, that, by reasoning from effects to 
causes, you may venture to conclude that your salvation is 
begun, and thus get hold of it by inference. It was thus, 
most likely, that you acquired your first hope and joy of 
salvation ; the loss of which you now deplore. You then 
felt as you had never done before, and found such a change 
of heart and habits taking place in you, and were conscious 
of such a willingness to be indebted and devoted to the 
Saviour, that you could hardly doubt the reality of your 
conversion. Accordingly, from thus seeing and feeling the 
work of the Spirit within you, you ventured to conclude 
that the work of Christ was for you. Because you thought 
that the Holy Spirit had " quickened" you, you hoped that 
the Saviour had " died for" you ; and because certain 
marks of effectual calling were showing themselves in your 
heart and life, you ventured to regard them as some evi- 
dence of being " called according to the purpose" of God. 
It was, perhaps, somewhat in this way, that you obtained 
whatever hold of salvation you got for yourself at first; 
and, could you see all those marks of grace about yourself 
again, you would feel warranted and encouraged to take 



FEELING AND ENJOYMENT. 105 

down your harp from the willows, and sing again the New 
Song : but as some of these marks are almost gone, and all 
of them more or less decayed, you dare not sing as in the 
days of old, nor even hope as formerly. But now, if this 
really be a true copy of your past and present views and 
feelings, does it not occur to you, on looking at the copy, that 
you have, all along, had but confused ideas of the Gospel ? 
You seem, indeed, to have believed it cordially as far as 
you understood it ; but it does not seem that you ever stud- 
ied it half so much as you did the frames of your own 
mind. You must have looked chiefly into and at yourself 
for a warrant to hope in Christ. Do consider this fact. 
According to your own account of the matter, you have, 
since you began to think seriously, been much in the habit 
of marking the workings of your own mind, and the melt- 
ings of your own heart ; and when you found them of a 
holy and humble character, you began to think that you 
were then warranted, and almost welcome, to hope in Christ 
for your own salvation ; but now that you feel less spiritual 
and contrite, you are afraid to hope. 

Now really, if this be the real state of the case with you, 
you have misunderstood the Gospel more than I have hith- 
erto supposed you to have done. For do you not see, that, 
in all your reasonings from effects to causes, your own feel- 
ings, and not God's invitations, have been made your chief 
warrant for hoping in Christ. This is self-evident, seeing 
that, now your tenderness of feeling is gone, you are afraid 
to hope ; — a plain proof that you have studied your own 
heart far more than the word of God. What he says con- 
cerning the ground and warrant of hope, has had less of 
your attention than what you felt towards religion in gen- 
eral. Now, although you did not, and, indeed, could not, 
feel too much, you have made a wrong use of your best 
feelings, in thus making them your chief encouragement 
in hoping for salvation ; for they are no part of the ground 
of hope, nor, in themselves, of its warrant. " Behold the 
Lamb of God. which taketh away the sin vf the world" is 



106 CAUSES OF BACKSLIDING. 

both the only ground and warrant of hope which the Scrip 
tures contain. Nor is any thing more necessary ; for as 
the blood of the Lamb answers all the demands of the law, 
so the word of the Lamb warrants all who are looking to 
Him alone for acceptance with God, to believe that they 
are accepted. This is the Gospel ! " He that believeth, 
is justified from all things." " He that believeth hath eter- 
nal life." If, therefore, you are conscious that, notwith- 
standing all your mistakes and relapses, your real design 
was and is to rely upon Christ alone, that you might be- 
come like Christ ; you too are warranted, by the direct 
authority of God, to believe that you are a partaker of that 
salvation which you were, just now, afraid to hope for. 
And if you are astonished to find the matter brought to this 
much desired, but unexpected issue, do remember that it is 
only saying, in other words, that eternal life is " the free 
gift of God" to them who believe in Christ. Consider these 
things, and they will soon restore all your best feelings, 
and place them upon a firmer basis than ever they stood 
on before. 



No. XL 

THE CAUSES OF BACKSLIDING. 

One great cause of backsliding is the uncertainty which 
many of the serious allow to rest upon the question of their 
own faith in Christ. They never were sure that they were 
believers. They wished to be so — tried to be so, and 
hoped that, eventually, they should prove to be so. This 
may be your case. You were quite sure, when you began 
to follow Christ, that a great change had taken place in 
your heart and habits, and in your views and feelings ; — so 



CAUSES OF BACKSLIDING. 107 

great, that you could not but regard it, then, as the begin- 
ning of that " good work" which God has promised to carry 
on. Accordingly, under this sweet persuasion, you began 
to act as a believer, and to apply to yourself all the com- 
mands which are enjoined upon believers. Thus, in refer- 
ence to duty, you cast in your lot with the people of God, 
and willingly came under all their peculiar obligations ; and 
the readiness with which you did so, at that time, was no 
small proof to yourself, and others, that you were the sub- 
ject of a divine charge. You were even glad to find that 
you were no longer unwilling to follow holiness, nor averse 
to devotion. You wondered and wept that you had ever 
neglected them — and adored the grace which had put an 
end to that criminal negligence. Accordingly, you often 
felt sure that you could never relapse into your old state of 
mind ; the bare idea of going back from the " narrow way" 
into the " broad way" again, was abhorrent to you. You 
could not believe that it was possible after all that you had 
seen and felt, to forsake the fountain of living waters, and 
return to the broken cisterns of sin or folly. But you have 
done so, and left both your " first love," and your " first 
work." You are now a backslider, and feel and confess 
that you are so. 

Many causes, of course, concurred in producing this 
backsliding ; and all the moral causes of it are well known 
to yourself. You can see, at a glance, how it began in the 
neglect, of secret prayer ; and how it went on by the neg- 
lect of self-examination ; and how it settled into a kind of 
apostacy of heart from God and godliness, by an undue 
attention to the world, or by tampering with forbidden 
things. Your heart condemns you — and " God is greater 
than your heart, and Itnoweth all things /" The case, how- 
ever, although both lamentable and criminal, is not hope- 
less. You have, indeed, almost given up God ; but God 
has not given up you ; so that there is still hope in Israel 
concerning this thing ! For it is just as true that God 
" heals backslidings," as that he pardons sins ; — just as 



108 CAUSES OF BACKSLIDING. 

true that the backslider is welcome to return to Christ, as 
that any sinner is welcome to come to him. He who re- 
stored Peter will not reject you, when you seek him with 
all your heart. The Saviour is, in fact, more unwilling to 
give you up finally, than you are to be given up by him. 

Such being the real state of the case, the first question 
is, of course, How must you return ? Now there is not one 
way for unbelievers to come to God, and another for back- 
sliders to return to God ; but the way in which you came, 
is the only way in which you can return. Both unbelievers 
and backsliders have " access to God," only " by the blood 
of Christ ;" but in that way, whosoever cometh, or returneth, 
he will in no wise cast out. In a word, backsliders can only 
be restored in the same way that sinners are justified — by 
believing in Christ for salvation. 

Now 5 if you intend to try again this way of access to God, 
see to it, I beseech you, that the question of your believing 
is not left in the doubtful state in which you allowed it to 
remain, when you first attempted to believe with the heart ; 
for if you leave it unsettled or uncertain, you will soon 
backslide again. You cannot go on well in the ways of 
God, until you know that you are a believer. All your 
former backslidings arose, more or less, out of your former 
uncertainty on this point. They had, indeed, other and 
worse causes ; but this, too, was a cause. And in this way ; 
— not being sure that you were a believer, you were not, 
and could not be, sure that you had any right to the comfort 
of the great and precious promises. Accordingly you were 
afraid, even in your best days, to apply them freely to your- 
self. I mean, you did not, and durst not, even then, apply 
the promises to your own case, as you applied the laws of 
the Gospel. You were quite sure that it was your bounden 
duty to regard all the commandments of God as the rule of 
your life ; but you were not sure that it was your privilege 
to regard all the promises of God as the portion of your soul. 
You pleaded, indeed, the promises in the name of Christ, 
and hoped that God would fulfil them in your experience ; 



CAUSES OF BACKSLIDING. 109 

but you often doubted whether he would do so, and felt that 
you had no certain hold on Him or them. The consequence 
of all this was, that the Gospel had not a firm hold upon 
you ; and therefore, when temptation came, you were not 
fully prepared to resist it. You could not say, "lama child 
of God, and must not give way to it — an heir of salvation, 
and need not be vanquished by it." Temptation, therefore, 
had nothing to contend with, but a sense of duty and interest ; 
and this it overcame. 

It is of immense importance to understand this point 
clearly. You were quite sincere, and not unhappy, when 
you began to follow Christ : salvation was your supreme 
object ; and the hope of obtaining it, sooner or later, was 
the joy of your heart. 

You did not, however, expect to obtain it soon ; but laid 
your account with years, perhaps of diligence, before you 
could make your calling and election sure. And, at first, 
you were not unwilling to pursue the assurance of salvation 
at this expense of diligence. You thought, and rightly too, 
that the witness and seal of the Spirit would amply repay 
all the pains taken to obtain them. However, before they 
could come, you had begun to go astray. Neither your dili- 
gence nor delight lasted long. They did not, indeed, pass 
away so rapidly as the early cloud, or the morning dew ; 
but they did pass away sooner than you could have imagined 
it possible for them. Now remember, and mark — just in 
proportion as your delight in the ways of God declined, 
your diligence abated ; and, exactly as both declined, your 
doubts of the reality of your conversion multiplied. Accord- 
ingly it was not as a child of God — not as a believer— not 
even in the character of a convert — that you departed from 
God ; but, in leaving him, you suspected that you had never 
belonged to Him. You, most likely, even palliated your 
backslidings to yourself, by the consideration that you had 
either never avowed yourself to be a true convert, or had 
not been sure of it in your own mind. Your backsliding 
did not, therefore, appear to you as the departure of a child 
vol. i. 10. 



110 CAUSES OP BACKSLIDING. 

from a father, but of a servant from a master. You felt, 
indeed, that you were risking your soul more than ever ; 
but you felt too that it had never been safe. Thus, you had 
not all, nor the best, motives of a conscious believer to re- 
strain you. You had, indeed, motives which ought to have 
restrained you, and which would have done so, if they had 
been kept steadfastly in view; and it is but your sin and 
shame, that you lost sight of them : but still, you had not 
that magnetic motive which confirmed the souls of the first 
disciples — " We loved him because he first loved us." Any 
love you had to the Saviour arose either from the consider- 
ation of his general love to the world, or from the hope that 
he might, one day, manifest his love to you ; and, as the 
manifestation which you looked for did not come, the dili- 
gence which you began with did not go on. 

Now, if this was the real state of the matter in your 
case, thus, it is evident, it will be again, unless you get 
under the influence of the peculiar, as w^ell as the common, 
motives which bind the soul to Christ and holiness. In 
returning to God, therefore, see to it — that it is by believing 
in Christ that you may " be justified by the faith of Christ." 
Your first approaches to the Saviour came short of this. 
" The end" of whatever faith you exercised then, was the 
remote, not the immediate, salvation of your soul : where- 
as you are warranted, and welcome, immediately upon 
committing your soul to Christ for a holy salvation, to be- 
lieve that you " shall be saved ;" for God accepts at once, 
and Christ keeps for ever, all who believe with the heart 
unto righteousness. Credit this, therefore, in your own 
case ; and thus, although future blacksliding will not be 
rendered impossible, it will be far less likely to occur. 

There is, however, a class of backsliders who never 
went so far, either in believing or obeying the Gospel, as 
in the case just stated. They knew something of the way 
of salvation, and, for a time, felt so much of its value, that 
they could not neglect secret prayer, nor pray without tears. 
They were often quite overcome, both in their closets and 



CAUSES OF BACKSLIDING. Ill 

in the sanctuary, with sweet or solemn impressions of di- 
vine and eternal things. Their hearts melted or warmed 
whenever they pondered on the great salvation. But now, 
all this holy susceptibility and deep feeling is lost, and with 
it, all the hope which it gave rise to. Accordingly, such 
persons, on looking back to their former state of mind, and 
contrasting it with the present, feel that they are back- 
sliders in heart and life. The consciousness of this mel- 
ancholy fact overwhelms them at times ; but when they 
think of returning to the Fountain of living waters, the 
want of their old feelings of love and relish discourages 
them. Hence the language of some is, " that it were 
with me as in months past ! but I can neither feel nor pray 
now as I did then, and, therefore, I dare not hope. My 
soul no longer prospers, and therefore I can take no com- 
fort from the promises. I have lost my first love, and now 
I can get no hold upon Christ for myself. I have departed 
from God, and God has, in anger, hid his face from me !" 

Now this is certainly a deplorable case ; and whoever 
would treat it harshly has not the spirit of Christ. The 
sincerity and humility of the confession demand both re- 
spect and tenderness. There are, however, mistakes mixed 
up with it, which require to be corrected, even if some pain 
be incurred by the correction of them. 

Now, when you say that " God has hid his face from 
you in anger," this implies that you once saw it in love, and 
enjoyed the light of his countenance. But is this really 
true 1 Is it certain that what you once enjoyed, was the 
divine presence shining on your soul ? It is quite certain 
that you enjoyed something which was both pleasing 
and profitable to you at the time : of that there can be no 
doubt, seeing the memory of those happy moments is so 
dear to you, and the loss of them so deeply deplored by 
you. It is not, therefore, with any view of throwing dis- 
credit on your word, that I ask, Is it the fact, that God ever 
manifested himself to your soul as your Father and por- 
tion ? Every thing is not the divine presence which is 



112 CAUSES OF BACKSLIDING. 

called so. What you felt then, may appear, when com- 
pared with your present darkness, the light of God's coun- 
tenance ; but you did not, perhaps, think it so then. Re- 
member what was your opinion of that joy, when it was 
full, and whilst it lasted ! Were you, then, sure that you 
had obtained salvation — sure that you were accepted in the 
Beloved — sure that you were passed from death to life ? 
Did not your joy arise rather from a persuasion that you 
were in a fair way for finding mercy at last ? Were you 
not quite as much pleased with your own good feelings and 
intentions, as with the Gospel ? Was it not, chiefly, be- 
cause you felt as you did, that you hoped as you did then ? 
Remember, as minutely as you can, the precise character 
of your first love ! I am not attempting to discredit its sin- 
cerity, but to ascertain how far it was influenced by faith in 
the atonement. What I want to get at in your case, is the 
degree in which your hopes and happiness arose from be- 
lieving views of the blood of Christ. Now, you did not 
overlook that great atonement, nor presume to hope apart 
from its merits. In one sense, it was your only and final 
plea at the mercy-seat : but did you, even in your best days, 
think it a sufficient plea 1 When you pleaded it most fer- 
vently, did you feel it to be enough, in itself and by itself, 
to obtain for you acceptance with God ? Did you see 
nothing between you and hell, but the cross ? — and see that 
to be quite enough to save you from the wrath to come ? 
Did you really believe or perceive, that nothing but faith 
was necessary in order to warrant hope ? Did it ever oc- 
cur to you, even when your faith was strongest, that your 
faith had saved you ? Or, is it not the fact, that you attach- 
ed far more importance to your feelings than to your faith ? 
Be honest ! — your believing went for little in your own 
estimation. You thought it the least part of your piety ; 
and that, not because it was weak, but because you had 
very little faith in the use of faith itself, or did not regard 
your own believing as faith. What you believed, was the 
last thing you thought of, when examining the reality of 



CAUSES OF BACKSLIDING. 113 

your religion ; you laid the chief stress upon your tears, 
prayers, and holy desires, and hardly allowed any weight 
to your believing. This is self-evident; for you Ml be- 
lieve all that you did then, and still think your belief of the 
Gospel of no consequence or real use. It gives you no 
comfort now, and therefore it was not it which comforted 
you then. 

Surely all this forces upon you the suspicion, if not the 
conviction, that whatever you felt, even in your best days, 
you did not understand the way of salvation by faith well. 
For, do you not see, that if the atonement had really been 
the sole ground of your hope then, and if faith in it had 
been your hold on it, you could hope still, because you be- 
lieve still all that you did then ? You are changed for the 
worse in many respects, but your believing goes on as for- 
merly, I mean — you disbelieve none of the truths which 
you believed then. You have as much faith in the truth of 
the Gospel as ever ; but having less feeling, you attach no 
importance to it. You never laid much stress upon your 
believing, and now you think it of no use whatever. 

The object of these remarks is, to convince you, that 
however sincere, warm, or pleasing, your former religious 
feelings were, you were, all along, very imperfectly ac- 
quainted with the way of salvation ; indeed, so ignorant of 
it, that if all these feelings were restored in your heart, they 
would not prove you to be a believer. The loss of them 
proves that you are a backslider from much that was good 
and promising ; but the revival of them, in all their original 
tenderness, would not constitute a child of God : for sinners 
are made " the sons of God, by faith in Christ Jesus ;" 
whereas, in your creed, this grand principle of the Gospel 
has been overlooked or misunderstood. Or, if you have 
talked of salvation by faith, you must have meant, by faith, 
something more than the hearty belief of the truth concern- 
ing the person and work of Christ. Depend on it, therefore 
that you are not, and never have been, so humble as you 
imagine ; for had you seen or believed that there was noth- 
10* 



114 SANCTIFED AFFLICTIONS. 

ing but the blood of the Lamb between you and perishing, 
you must have seen too, that the only way of escape is by 
trusting to that blood. Well — it is open to your confidence 
still ; and, if you are persuaded of the truth of its freeness 
and efficacy, why not trust in it at once ! 

Many other causes of backsliding might be (perhaps 
ought to have been) enumerated ; ^but the moral causes of 
it are so abundantly explained in other works, that it seemed 
better to confine this chapter to those mistakes, and to that 
uncertainty, upon the subject of a personal interest in Christ, 
which give such power to temptation, by leaving the mind 
unsatisfied, and unfortified with the hope of salvation. 



No. XII. 

SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 

The perplexity of the serious is often increased, for a 
time, by their trials or calamities. And in this way: it 
seems hard, when we are willing and trying to do well in 
the service of God, to be hindered by an unusual weight of 
affliction. Such a hinderance we did not look for ; but al- 
most calculated that providence, as well as grace, would 
smile upon us when we became the decided followers of 
the Lamb. We may not, indeed, have ventured to say so, 
in words, to ourselves ; but it was almost an understood 
thing, and taken for granted by us, that we should be in less 
danger than formerly. We intended to do so well, and to 
be so devoted to God, that it seemed unlikely that he would 
allow any thing to befall us, which was likely to hinder or 
unhinge us ; but God's thoughts are not as our thoughts on 
this point. He has allowed both trials and calamities to 
come upon us ; and these may be only the " the beginnings 
of sorrows." 



SAN CTIFIED AFFLI L'TIONS. 115 

But this, although painful, should not surprise us ; we had 
no warrant to calculate upon exemption from tribulation. 
In fact, we ought to have laid our account with passing 
through " many tribulations," from the time we began to 
walk in " the narrow way" to heaven. It was " written" 
that we should have to do so : it was obvious that all who had 
preceded us in the way to Zion, had done so. If, therefore, 
we flattered ourselves, in the face of all divine testimony 
and of all human experience, the flattery must have been 
almost wilful, and altogether inexcusable. " But no strange 
thing has befallen" us, however much we may be startled 
or staggered by our afflictions. We may see the same crosses 
on the shoulders of many of our brethren ; yea, and upon 
many who are strangers to God and godliness, and who 
have thus no resource in the day of calamity. Now if it be 
so hard to bear up under heavy trials, notwithstanding all 
that we know of the wisdom of God, and of the tenderness 
of the Saviour, how intolerable it must be to suffer without 
hope ! 

This is a view of our trials, which we ought never to 
lose sight of. They might have been sent whilst we were 
strangers to prayer and faith ; and, had they come before we 
fled to Christ, they might have hurried us on to despera- 
tion, or hardened our hearts against the Gospel. Weigh 
this solemn fact ! We should not have escaped from all 
afflictions, nor have had any security against our present 
sufferings, by continuing in " the broad way :" they might 
have overtaken us there ; or what is worse, God might have 
cursed us, by giving us our good things in this life. Now, 
if the mighty hand of God had struck us down whilst we 
were afar off from him, and unwilling to draw nigh to him, 
the consequences might have been fatal ; for, if we almost 
sink now, although we can cast our burden on the Lord, we 
must have been overwhelmed, if that burden had been laid 
upon us before we knew the Lord. And if, at times, it al- 
most alienate some of our feelings from him, by its weight ; 
how easily might it have set all at the heart against him, 



116 SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 

whilst our hearts were unregenerate ! This is not such an 
unusual effect of severe troubles as you may imagine. We, 
indeed, see many brought to their " right mind" by afflic- 
tion ; and therefore we are apt to suppose that the natural 
tendency of it is to awaken the careless, and soften the ob- 
durate ; but whenever affliction does so, it is not by its nat- 
ural influence, but because it is overruled for good by grace. 
Accordingly, in those circles of life where the means of 
grace are neglected, and the Gospel unknown, the usual ef- 
fect of trouble is to harden the heart against God, or to pro- 
duce utter recklessness. There are, indeed, some pleasing 
exceptions to this melancholy fact, which occur ; but they 
are very few ; and no wonder. How could it, in the na- 
ture of things, be otherwise 1 Affliction is well calculated 
to enforce whatever a man knows of God and salvation ; 
but, if he have grown up in ignorance of the things which 
belong to his " peace" it cannot inform him of these things. 
Accordingly, where they are not known beforehand, there is 
nothing in the mind to work upon, but its own powers and 
passions, and these are rather irritated than subdued by the 
rod. Had, therefore, our severest trials come upon us 
whilst we were ignorant and out of the way, the probability 
is, that they would have seared our conscience, and' thus 
sealed our ruin. 

Another reconciling consideration is — that our former 
trials have been positively useful to us. Our present af- 
fliction is not. the first ; we have had the cup at our lips 
before, and if it be bitterer than before, there is still no poi- 
son in it. Hitherto it has proved salutary in every in- 
stance. Accordingly, we can trace an intimate connexion 
between certain trials and the formation of our religious 
character : they gave power and glory to our views of sal- 
vation and eternity, and brought our principles to the test ; 
and assisted in breaking up bad habits, and in bringing down 
bad tempers ; for, before we were afflicted, we " went 
astray." Upon our devotional character, especially, they 
have had a mighty influence. The spirit of prayer might 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 117 

almost be said to have begun with the beginning of our 
sorrows ; we came so near to God, and unbosomed and un- 
burdened our souls so fully to him, when his hand was first 
lifted up against us. We saw the " needs be" for the rod 
then, and acknowledged that in faithfulness he had afflicted 
us. Accordingly, on looking back to the devotional exer- 
cises of that time, and the devotional habits which grew 
out of them, we can truly say with David, " It was good 
for me that I was afflicted." Now, with all this experience, 
why not expect similar good from your present afflictions 1 
They are heavier — but they are from the same hand, and 
from the same heart too ; and therefore for the same gra- 
cious purpose. 

" But they have not the same influence," some may say ; 
" this stroke of the rod has quite stunned me. My spirit is 
so overwhelmed within me, and my mind so unhinged that 
I cannot pray nor meditate, nor do any thing aright. My 
former troubles endeared the mercy-seat and the means of 
grace, and seemed to bring with them the strength and the 
consolation required for bearing them well ; but this calam- 
ity has swept, like a whirlwind, all my best principles and 
feelings before it. Nothing rises in my heart but dark and 
horrid thoughts ; and when I try to pray them down, they 
rise more fiercely ! This is, indeed, a deplorable case ; 
but still, it is only the natural effect of the first pressure of 
heavy woes ; they unsettle and upset the mind for a time, 
and we ourselves aggravate their pressure by rash conclu- 
sions. One rash conclusion, which we are prone to draw, 
is — that we never can get over such a trial, nor be ourselves 
again. We feel sure of this, and say that it is impossible 
ever to surmount it, or to be happy again. 

Perhaps this is your opinion of your own case. It is, 
however, a conclusion utterly unwarranted by Scripture or 
experience. Others have recovered from strokes of provi- 
dence equally stunning. Asaph was quite as much over- 
whelmed as you are. Besides you are not prepared, what- 
ever you may think at present, to abide by your own con- 



118 SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 

elusion. It is not drawn from all the facts of the case. 
You are looking only to " the things which are seen, and 
temporal," and overlooking " the things which are unseen, 
and eternal," when you say that all is over in your case. 
For surely you have not made up your mind to brave and 
bear eternal separation from God and the Lamb ! Surely 
you are not willing to abandon your soul to perdition, be- 
cause your temporal interests are gone to wreck ! You 
cannot look a ruined eternity in the face, and recklessly 
await its coming ! Such horrid thoughts may, indeed, flash 
across your agitated spirit for a moment ; but you dare not, 
cannot dwell upon them. Even if you indulge them for a 
moment, there is a lurking hope that it will not come to 
this : and even when you are most desperate, you are not 
prepared to affirm that God cannot bring you out of these 
deep waters. 

Consider this ; you are not prepared to throw your pre- 
cious and immortal soul into the general wreck of your hap- 
piness. There is enough lost, without losing that too ! Be- 
sides, you do not believe yourself, when you try to say to 
yourself, that all hope is for ever gone. Oh no ! you may 
not see how you can be restored, but you know that restor- 
ation is not impossible. You dare not go the length of 
maintaining that God is your implacable and eternal enemy. 
You may say, " What can I think, seeing God has allowed 
all this to come upon me ? Is not my calamity a token, 
not only of his anger and wrath, but of his hatred V No ! 
for grievous as it is, it is less than Job's ; and in his there 
was no hatred at all. Besides, you once thought, and be- 
lieved, that God was your friend. " Ah," you say, " it is 
the recollection of that hope which aggravates all my mis- 
ery. I had begun to feel as a child, and to act as a child, 
towards the God of salvation : and I seemed, to myself, 
likely to do well in his service, until this came upon me." 
Indeed ! upon what grounds did you then rest the hope of 
your sonship ? Perhaps these grounds remain as open and 
firm as ever ; — if they were scriptural grounds, they actu- 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 119 

ally do. If, however, you took up the hope of salvation 
from the consideration that providence was smiling on you ; 
and thought God your Father, because your temporal lot 
pleased you, you were risking your soul in a refuge of lies ; 
and if so, your calamity is sent in mercy, to drive you for 
refuge to the hope set before you in the Gospel. But if 
you say, " It was not wanted for that ; all my hope of sal- 
vation and sonship was built, not on any thing in my tem- 
poral lot, or in my moral character, but wholly on the Rock 
of Ages ; Christ was all and all as the ground of my hopes :" 
if so, have you not known — have you not heard that Jesus 
Christ is " the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever V Then 
all the grounds of your hope do remain the same as ever. 
The foundation standeth sure, whatever else is fallen. 

Now the matter comes to a point ; for if it be the fact that 
your hopes were not founded on, nor influenced by, the prov- 
idential tokens of Divine favour in your lot, but were de- 
rived solely from the person and work of Christ — the chan- 
ges in your lot ought not to change hope into despair, see- 
ing the foundation of hope is unchanged. But you say, " I 
am sadly changed to the worse." In what? You wonder 
at this question, and are ready to say, " In every thing." 
Now, you should, of course, know best ; but, at present you 
are neither calm nor collected, and therefore it may be that 
you judge too rashly. There is, however, no doubt a mel- 
ancholy change in the frame of your mind, and in your de- 
votional habits ; but still, these are not every thing in reli- 
gion : they are important and necessary things ; but they 
are not the whole of piety, nor yet the vital principle of it. 
Faith in Christ is the grand bond of union between the soul 
and God : and if that bond be not broken, your soul may 
soon return to its quiet rest ; — " cast down," indeed, " but 
not destroyed ; perplexed, but not in despair." But you 
say, " My faith is gone, as well as my hope ; they perished 
together, in the day of my calamity." Indeed! how could 
that be 1 Your calamity made a sad alteration in you ; but 
it did not alter the Saviour, nor the Gospel, nor the promi- 



120 SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 

ses of God to believers. Perhaps it did not alter your 
leading views or convictions in regard to the person and 
work of Christ. If not, your faith is not clean gone yet. 
Examine the matter calmly : you were once fully persuad- 
ed of the truth, and suitableness, and value of the Gospel. 
Is this persuasion changed ? Is there any part of the Di- 
vine testimony concerning Christ, which you now disbe- 
lieve 1 Do you think less of the Saviour than formerly ? 
He is not, of course, so precious in your estimation as he 
was, when you could look up to him as your own Saviour : 
but you still believe him to be the only Saviour. In regard 
to all but yourself, you are fully persuaded that he is able to 
save to the very uttermost. How then can you say, that 
your faith is utterly perished ? Is there no faith in a firm 
belief of all the truth concerning the Saviour ? If not, what 
do you mean by faith ? 

Perhaps you never attached much importance to the cor- 
dial belief of the truth itself; but have hitherto, regarded 
nothing as faith, but the reliance which you placed on Christ 
for your own salvation ; and therefore, as that reliance is 
shaken to its very centre at present, you, of course, con- 
clude that you have no faith. Now it is certainly very 
useless to believe the truth concerning the Saviour, without 
trusting in him for salvation. It is, however, the belief of 
the truth concerning him, which is the warrant for trusting 
in Him. You may say, " I cannot trust — cannot rely, now: 
God seems to debar me, by visible tokens of his anger." 
Now, really, this is a rash interpretation of his dealings. 
You cannot lay your hand upon one text of Scripture, 
which says that such judgments as yours are fatal or final. 
The whole tenor of Scripture stamps them as being fatherly 
chastisements, inflicted in love, not in hatred. And as to 
the assertion, that you can no longer venture to rely on 
Christ for yourself, it is equally unfounded. You, of course 
believe and feel it to be true : but it is not the less false, in 
itself, on that account. The Spirit of God is just as able 
to enable you to trust in Christ now, as when he first won 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 121 

your confidence to him ; and, for any thing that appears to 
the contrary, just as willing as ever. He is, however, the 
Spirit of truth, and therefore works by the truth ; and that 
truth which you require to see, in order to the renewal of 
your trust in Christ, is, that you are warranted and welcome 
to rely on Him for your own salvation, upon the single 
ground of still believing what God has testified concerning 
him. Now, that testimony you do believe with the heart 
still : unhinged and overwhelmed as your heart is ! You 
have lost your hold upon hope and peace, during this 
stormy and dark day : but you have not lost hold of the truth 
of the Gospel. Well, on this ground it is both your privi- 
lege and your duty to take up hope again. Now, if you see 
this clearly, the lesson is worth all that you have suffered 
in order to learn it. 

Assuming, therefore, that you now see how your faith in 
Christ has secured your interest in Christ and maintained 
it throughout all the vicissitudes of your case, what do you 
think of your trials, when you view them in this light ? 
Your soul is still safe: God is still your friend; the Sa- 
viour has not forgotten you ; the Spirit has not forsaken 
you — whatever you have lost or suffered. Is not this an 
up-making portion ? Does not all this balance the weight 
of affliction, and even lighten it ? You may now calculate 
upon grace to help, and on strength to sustain you. " Hum- 
ble" yourself under the mighty hand of God, and he will 
exalt you in due season. This hot furnace was the fiery 
trial of your faith, as well as your patience ; and, accor- 
dingly, it has purified your faith from much of its dross, and 
increased its value in your own estimation. And, is it not 
amazing to you to see the glorious principle of salvation by 
faith, like a rainbow, spanning and spangling the dark 
clouds of your calamity ! Can you ever cease to wonder at 
this wonder 1 Saved by faith ! Now you can do and en- 
dure, as seeing Him who is Invisible. 

VOL. I. 11 



122 EXPERIMENTAL MAXIMS. 

No. XIII. 
EXPERIMENTAL MAXIMS. 

" Hold the Mystery of Faith in a pure conscience." In 
nothing else can it be held with comfort or effect. When 
a bad conscience gets between the mind and the Gospel, it 
soon brings on an almost total eclipse upon both, until the 
gospel no longer appears what it really is, and the mind can 
no longer apply it as formerly. How naturally and inevi- 
tably this should be the effect of a bad conscience, you may 
judge from the fact — that you have found it difficult to get 
hold, and to keep hold, of the principle of salvation by faith, 
notwithstanding all your efforts to maintain a good con- 
science towards God and man. Your conscience was, per- 
haps, never more tender or watchful than during your in- 
quiries into this principle ; and if, in this state of mind, you 
have at one time been afraid to call your believing, faith ; 
and at another time afraid to conclude that you were justi- 
fied ; — it is obvious that a bad conscience must render such 
conclusions impossible, upon scriptural or rational grounds. 
The sober and solemn fact is, that the comforts of the Gos- 
pel are in the hands of the Holy Spirit ; and therefore, when 
they are not employed for holy purposes, he withholds them, 
or, what is worse, leaves the mind to the infatuation of cry- 
ing, " Peace," when there is no peace. However clearly, 
therefore, you may now see the way of your own salvation 
by faith, be sure of this — that as soon as you cease to strive 
to maintain a good conscience towards God and man, your 
hold upon the Gospel will begin to relax, and continue to 
lessen, until you sink into greater perplexity than ever. A 
good hope cannot be held in a bad conscience. 

" Let the peace of God reign in your hearts." Yes, let it ! 
Some do not allow it to rule or rest in their hearts. " We 
have peace with God, when the Holy Spirit enables us to 
see and believe that we are justified by faith :" but this 
way of arriving at, and retaining, peace of conscience, is so 



EXPERIMENTAL MAXIMS. 123 

different from all our natural and from the spirit of many of 
our acquired, ideas, that we are prone to flinch from it, or to 
be afraid of it ; and thus we unsettle that peace which 
springs from believing. We talk, indeed, of " living a life 
of faith ;" but, in general, this is made to include almost 
every thing but faith itself. Nor is this the only way in 
which peace with God is disturbed and lost : it comes into 
the heart by believing ; but it comes to ' rule" in the heart ; 
and, therefore, if it be not allowed to sway its sceptre over 
our habits and tempers, it will not shed its sweet influences 
over our hopes. Oh, charge all that is within you, to let it 
rule over you ! 

" Pray always with all prayer and supplication" If you 
know yourself to be a believer, you have not, of course, to 
pray for faith itself, but for the increase and the continuance 
of it ; nor for justification itself, but for the habitual sense 
of it, and for the pardon of daily sins ; nor for sonship itself, 
but for the spirit of adoption ; nor for the new birth itself, but 
for the progress and perfection of regeneration ; but what a 
field — what occasion — for frequent and fervent prayer is 
thus before you ! And you will require to pray, until your 
spirit be disembodied for praise. Without prayer, you can- 
not maintain a good conscience : without prayer, you cannot 
keep before your mind the principles or the facts of the Gos- 
pel, which have relieved you : without prayer, the spirit of 
adoption will evaporate as morning dew : without prayer, 
the joints and sinews of your moral and religious character 
will relax and fail. You never can realize as your Father, 
the God you are reluctant to commune with. You may call 
him so before others ; but you will be unable to think him 
so in your own mind. 

" When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren." Some, 
when they discover the perfect simplicity of the Gospel, and 
see clearly that the cordial belief of it is faith, and that faith 
itself settles the question of acceptance with God — have no 
patience with those who are groping their way to these great 
principles, and no respect for those who happen to state 



124 EXPERIMENTAL MAXIMS. 

them less clearly. Penitents are thus treated with harsh- 
ness ; and preachers, who are as intent as any on making 
Christ all and all in salvation, are branded as legalists and 
enemies of the Cross. Now, to say the least of such con- 
duct, it is really despicable ! How can such persons forget 
the slowness of their own hearts to apprehend and believe 
the whole of the Gospel ? Guard against this censorious 
spirit ! You did not see your own way or welcome at once, 
nor soon, nor easily. And it is more than probable, that 
one half of the patience, which you have required in your 
own case, will be quite sufficient to bring these humble in- 
quirers into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For 
they are not unbelievers, because unable yet to see how faith 
itself unites the soul to Christ. In general, they believe 
with the heart all the truth with which God has connected 
the promise of salvation ; so that, on your own principles, 
they are safe, without knowing that they are so. " Strength- 
en,'' 1 therefore, instead of staggering them. 

"Be ye followers of God as dear children." Much, both 
of your personal comfort and relative usefulness, depends 
on acting upon this principle. The theoretic or logical con- 
clusion that you are a child of God, because you believe in 
Christ, will not last long, if you cease to follow the Lord 
fully. It is, however, equally true that you will not long 
follow him fully, if you lose sight of this conclusion. — He 
who would follow as a child of God, must believe that he is 
a child of God. Now, if you believe this in your own case, 
do speak and act agreeably to your relationship. I do not 
mean, of course, that you should boast of, or obtrude on 
others, the hope of your sonship ; but you may, you ought, 
to appear in your real character. By doing so habitually, 
you will feel more and more bound to cultivate the image 
and spirit of a child ; and others, seeing not only your good 
works, but your good hopes also, will feel that religion gives 
the happiness it promises. "Whereas when the careless, or 
the undecided, see nothing more than practical godliness in 
the pious, and hear nothing from them but details of fears, 



EXPERIMENTAL MAXIMS. 125 

and doubts, and strivings ; they are led to argue that reli- 
gion, however good, is joyless ; and that the pious are as 
uncertain as themselves of salvation. And what else can 
they think, if you say nothing of your enjoyments ? Casting 
" pearls before swine" is wrong ; but, in general, wherever 
you can speak of your sense of duty with propriety, you 
may say something of your privileges and prospects too. 

" Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which 
no man shall see the Lord." 

POSTSCRIPT. 

It may be both pleasing and useful to you to know, that 
this little work, now so widely circulated, has been blessed 
by God, in a degree which ought to be publicly acknowl- 
edged. The history of its usefulness would form a valuable 
record : but, of course, I dare not publish it. 

11* 



OR A 

GUIDE TO THE DEVOTIONAL. 



CONTENTS, 



Page. 
I. Access to God 127 

II. The Promises of God to the Prayerful, the Real Answers 

to Prayer 1 36 

III. The Affinity of Fervent Prayer and Saving Faith . . 146 

IV. Prayer, Proof of the Work and Witness of the Holy Spirit 160 
V. The actual Presence and Help of the Spirit in Prayer . 167 

VI. Walking in " the light," essential to Fellowship with God 175 
VII. A Devotional Spirit essential to the Enjoyment of the 

Promises ....... . 184 

VIII. Devotional Preparation for the Sanctuary . . .193 
IX. The Influence of Prayer upon peace of mind under the trials 

of life 202 

X. The Saviour's Devotional Habits 212 

XI. Communion with God in Affliction .... 218 

XII. Sacramental Communion with God and the Lamb . . 226 



No. I. 

ACCESS TO GOD. 



The highest human honour is access to the King. Even a 
single interview with the monarch is generally coveted, 
and, if obtained, never forgotten. How much more should 
access to the " King Eternal, Immortal, and Invisible," be 
prized and improved ! But, alas ! it is not so in general. 

127 



128 ACCESS TO GOD. 

We are naturally averse to " draw nigh unto God." The 
human mind, whilst unaffected by eternal things, regards 
prayer rather as an irksome task than as a glorious privi- 
lege. Accordingly we invent or avail ourselves of excuses 
for the neglect of prayer, and are not often very sorry when 
kept or called away from the throne of grace. Even when 
bowing before it in secret, and whilst no external objects 
distract or divert our minds, we are prone to hurry over 
devotion, and but too willing to return to the world. The 
social circle, or a favorite book, has, in general, greater 
charm for us, and can detain us much longer, than the 
mercy-seat of God. We find it easier to come down from 
the closet to the parlour, than to go up from the parlour to 
the closet. " The hour of prayer" is far less punctually 
kept than the hour of any secular or social engagement. 
The time which ought to be sacred to God is often sacri- 
ficed to the world ; but we seldom sacrifice to God any of 
the time which belongs to the world. In a word, there is 
nothing we have more reason to be ashamed of than our 
low views, and our lower feelings, upon the subject of 
secret prayer. 

And yet, prayer is access to God, and may be commun- 
ion with God ! It may be to us what praise is to angels 
and glorified spirits — "fellowship with God and the Lamb" 
We may come as near to the Eternal Mind in prayer, as 
they come to the eternal throne in praise. What then 
ought we to think of our reluctance to pray ? Were any 
angel or spirit in heaven half as reluctant to sing the new 
song, or to lay his crown at the feet of the Lamb, we should 
condemn him at once, and expect his expulsion from heav- 
en. We should no more think of excusing or palliating 
his conduct, than that of " the angels who kept not their 
first estate ;" nor would his imprisonment in their chains of 
darkness, nor his impalement in their penal fires, surprise 
us. Thus promptly and justly do we judge, in the case of 
those who have " access" to God in heaven. We expect 
them to " serve Him without weariness" Let not the im- 



ACCESS TO GOD. 129 

pression of this supposed case be defeated by the fact that 
the spirits in heaven have nothing else to do. The differ- 
ence between their lot and our own is, indeed, immense. 
They have no cares, no corruptions, nor temptations to 
hinder or harass them ; but 

" What various hinderances we meet, 
In coming to the mercy-seat !" 

True; and just because they are many and great, the great- 
er need we have for coming often and regularly, that we 
may obtain mercy and find grace to help. For if glorified 
spirits could neither be happy nor safe without communion 
with God, how much less can we be happy without it in a 
world so trying, or safe in a world so ensnaring ! They 
need communion with God, in order to sustain their "eter- 
nal weight of glory ;" how much more do we need it in 
order to sustain our patience under afflictions, and our 
character amidst temptations ! 

It will assist us still further, in forming a just judgment 
of our own hearts and habits, if we review some of the 
instances of special " access" to God, which have been 
vouchsafed "at sundry times, and in divers manners, to the 
fathers." Under the Law, the high priest had access, an- 
nually, to the mercy-seat in the holy of holies ; and, when 
within the vail, God communed with him from between the 
cherubim. He could say with certainty, as he entered 
with blood and incense, " / will hear what God, the Lord, 
will speak ; for He will speak peace to his people." Now, 
with such an introduction as the typical blood of atonement, 
and such a welcome awaiting him, what should we have 
thought and said of the highpriest, if he had neglected to 
go into the holy of holies, or had not gone up to the mercy- 
seat, or had come out before he heard what God, the Lord, 
would speak ? Had any priest been guilty of this neglect, 
all hearts would have been shocked at his impiety, and all 
voices united in condemning him. We should have ex- 
pected to hear that, like the offerers of " strange fire," he 



130 ACCESS TO GOD. 

was suddenly and signally consumed by penal fire. You 
feel this through all your soul, and are glad that there is no 
instance of a highpriest neglecting to draw nigh to God, 
when within the vail. But is it not more shocking- and 
sinful not to draw nigh to God, now that the eternal throne 
is the mercy-seat, and the blood of the Lamb our introduc- 
tion and plea ? That precious " blood" is both the plea for, 
and the pledge of, our success in prayer. And access to 
God on the mercy-seat is now daily. At all times, in all 
places, and under all circumstances, we may " come boldly 
to the throne of grace, to obtain mercy, and find grace to 
help in time of need." Why, then, is this freedom of ac- 
cess so little prized or improved ? We cannot say that it 
is less interesting to enter our closets to commune with 
God, than it was to enter the holy of holies. The scene 
is, indeed, less impressive in its external circumstances, and 
it makes no appeal to our senses ; but, when it is duly ex- 
amined, it is really more useful than all the glories of the 
holy of holies. The ark of the covenant was, no doubt, 
splendid, and the golden mercy-seat sublime, and the cher- 
ubim majestic, and the cloud of glory, crowning the whole, 
effulgent ; but the whole were only " shadows of good 
things to come ;" whereas we have in our closets, the " good 
things" themselves. There we may behold the brightness 
of the Father's glory, in the face of Jesus ; and see, in his 
person and work, the substance of all that was shadowed 
within the vail, and more than all that was typified through- 
out the temple. Our perfect and preserved Bible is, itself, 
more wonderful and glorious than " the cloud of glory." 
That Shechinah of the divine presence was, even when its 
radiance " filled the temple," a dark cloud, compared with 
the light which is imbodied in and shines from the sun of 
Scripture. Possessing this great and true light, we have 
no need to regret the loss of any thing which the ancient 
temple contained : for this light shows God to be all, and 
to be doing all, upon the throne of grace in heaven, that 
he was and did upon the mercy-seat on earth. If, indeed, 



ACCESS TO GOD. 131 

God had become less accessible, less sympathizing, or less 
faithful in reference to prayer, than he was in the temple, 
there would be reason to regret our transfer from the temple 
to the closet ; but, as God himself is the same for ever — 
his heart the same in kindness — his hand the same in 
bounty and power — the changes of place and circumstances 
are of no consequence whatever. All the real value of the 
holy of holies and its magnificent mercy-seat was — that 
there God heard and answered prayer. But for that, and 
what they typified of Christ, they would have been mere 
gorgeous ornaments : and, as types are now useless, and 
the answer of prayer secured by the intercession of Christ, 
the " closet" is preferable to the temple, if communion with 
God be our object. For, in the " closet God is " all in 
all !" When we retire to it, we meet God only : we speak 
to God alone. 

Alone with God: How solemn and sublime! Such ac- 
cess to him has no parallel in heaven itself. It is as if all 
the spirits around the eternal throne were moved back to 
M the borders of Emmanuel's land," whenever a new spirit 
was about to enter ; that thus its first interview might be 
with God alone, and its first emotions seen only by Him. 
Drawing nigh to God in the closet has all the secrecy, and 
none of the overwhelming solemnity, of such an interview. 

The soul is there with God alone, as if it alone engaged 
all his notice. It has God wholly to itself; and may un- 
bosom and plead as if He had no one else to attend unto at 
the moment. 

We could not have entered within the vail of the temple, 
even if we had lived when the temple was in all its glory : 
but, if we could have entered to pray before the mercy- 
seat, what would it have been compared with thus meeting, 
in the " closet," with nothing but God, and with God all to 
ourselves ? Oh, why should we ever be reluctant to pray, 
or heartless in prayer ? Secret prayer is a private inter- 
view with God, as real as that at the bush in Midian, or 
that on mount Peniel, vouchsafed to Moses and Jacob. If, 



132 ACCESS TO GOD. 

therefore, we would readily welcome such visits from God 
as the Patriarchs were favoured with, and would consider 
even one visit to be, on his part, an act of infinite con- 
descension, what ought we to think of the daily privilege 
of visiting God in secret, and being noticed, heard, and re- 
membered by Him, for good ? Do consider ; in the " closet" 
we are allowed to say all unto God that we could wish to 
say if we were praying upon the very spot where arch- 
angels adore and redeemed spirits sing. There is no note 
on the harp of Gabriel more welcome to Jehovah than the 
cry of a penitent for mercy, or the supplication of a child 
for grace. God makes it even a condition of coming to 
Him, that we "believe that he is the re warder of them who 
diligently seek Him." Think of all the armies of heaven 
rolling from their harps the anthems of eternity. Are they 
noticed and approved ? Hear, then, the voice of God out- 
speaking the chorus of heaven ! " Thus saith the High 
and Holy One, who inhabiteth eternity, unto that man will 
I look, and with that man will I dwell, who is of a contrite 
spirit, and who trembleth at my word." Truly prayer is 
" access to God !" He dwells with the prayerful, as he in- 
habits eternity ; — actually, willingly, and with delight. 
How willingly and cheerfully, therefore, ought we to enter 
into our closets, and pray to the Father who seeth in se- 
cret, and rewardeth openly! Oh, had Job known all this 
as clearly as we do, how would he have prized and improv- 
ed such access and welcome to God ! He would not have 
grudged the time, nor shrunk from the effort, required in 
drawing nigh unto God. When he exclaimed, " that I 
knew where I might find Him, that I might come even to his 
seat /" he would have gladly gone any where to find God. 
If " His seat" had been on the loftiest and coldest summit 
of Lebanon, and Lebanon quaking like Sinai, Job would 
have climbed it, to meet God in mercy. If " His seat" 
had been in the depths of the most desolate wilderness, or 
at the uttermost parts of the sea, Job would have travelled 
to it willingly, to " order his cause before God." We feel 



ACCESS TO GOD. 133 

sure of this ; it being so consistent with the patriarch's 
character. Indeed we should have readily blamed him, in 
the upbraiding spirit of his three friends, if he had been 
unwilling to go any where to find God. Well ; we know 
where to find God. 

" We have no such lengths to go ;" 

no such question to ask. We know where he " waiteth to 
be gracious." God is always to be found at our own home, 
when we seek him with the whole heart. More intimate 
communion may be found with him in the closet at home, 
than was found in the ancient temple, even by those who 
travelled from Dan and Beersheba to appear before God in 
Zion. They could not enter into the holy place made with 
hands, but had to worship afar off; "for the Law made 
nothing perfect ; but the bringing of a better hope did ; by 
the which we draw nigh unto God." Well, therefore, might 
Paul add, " Having, therefore, brethren, boldness (freedom) 
to enter into the Holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a new and 
living way, which he hath consecrated for us, through the 
vail ; and having a High Priest over the house of God ; let 
us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith" 
Thus it is, that " access" to 1 God is the pledge of accept- 
ance with God. And, until this be understood and be- 
lieved, neither the duty nor the privilege of secret prayer 
will have much influence upon our hearts or habits. So 
long as we have any doubt, or feel it but a " peradventure," 
whether we shall really " obtain mercy, and find grace," 
we shall not come often nor willingly to the throne of grace. 
While prayer is at all regarded as hopeless work, it will 
continue to be heartless work. 

Now, many do doubt very much, whether they shall suc- 
ceed in asking for salvation ; and they are very much con- 
firmed in this habit of doubting, by observing some who 
have prayed much and long, but who are yet, by their own 
confession, quite uncertain as to their own acceptance with, 
12 



134 ACCESS TO GOD. 

God. Such persons are not exactly hopeless, nor do they 
insinuate any thing against the efficacy of prayer ; but they 
have so little hope, and that little is so fluctuating, that the 
witnesses of it are not much encouraged to pray from their 
example. We have felt this, when we have found some 
man of prayer a man of fear. And as we do feel, and 
ought to feel, that God might justly refuse to answer our 
prayers for salvation ; and as we see that He seems, in 
some instances, to refuse peace to better men, we are thus 
led into a suspicion of His willingness to save us. And 
this doubting habit is still farther confirmed, when our own 
experience in prayer is similar to that of the person just 
described. When we find that but little hope, and no cer- 
tainty, follows our own prayers ; and that we obtain no 
solid peace or enjoyment ; and that the result is still as 
doubtful as ever ; and that we know not what to think of 
our case : we are thus drawn farther and farther into the 
wards of Doubting Castle, away and from the throne of 
grace. 

Now, under these circumstances, it is not by splendid 
descriptions of that. " glorious high throne," nor by glowing 
pictures of the solemnity or sweetness of prayer, nor by 
strong assertions about angels not being more welcome, nor 
even by appeals to the success of others ; — it is not by 
these things alone, nor chiefly, that we can be charmed 
back to the throne, or kept near it. These things have 
much weight, and a sweet influence upon the mind, whilst 
the mind can cherish the hope of eventual success ; but, 
whilst that is doubted, they will not render us truly devo- 
tional. Indeed, we shall never pray much, nor with much 
pleasure, until we are persuaded that we shall not pray in 
vain. Access to God will be prized, just in proportion as 
we feel sure of acceptance with God. 

" Is it, then," it will be said by some, " our duty to be- 
lieve that we shall find the mercy we pray for 1 Are we 
warranted and bound to calculate upon acceptance with 
God, when we have sought it with all our heart and soul V 



ACCESS TO GOD. 135 

What saith the Scriptures 1 For we ought to take no word, 
but the word of God, on this subject. Now the Scripture 
speaketh expressly on the point : " He that cometh to God 
must believe that he is the rewarder of them, that diligently 
seek himV And again, " Whosoever shall call upon the 
name of the Lord shall be saved" Thus both the promise 
and the precept render it the duty of the prayerful to be- 
lieve that " through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ" 
they shall be saved. It is by overlooking this grand fact 
that so many of the prayerful are fearful. They watch, 
indeed, for answers to their prayers ; but they look unto 
their own hearts for them, instead of looking also to the 
word of God. This is a grievous mistake. The state of 
our hearts should not, indeed, be overlooked ; but, whilst 
this is true, it is equally true that our hearts cannot feel 
what we do not believe. If, after praying fervently for 
mercy, we sit down to examine solemnly whether we feel 
any hope, peace, or joy, springing up in our hearts, we 
ought not to be surprised if we feel nothing of the kind, so 
long as our attention is confined to our hearts. The an- 
swer to such prayers is in God's promises to the prayerful; 
and, therefore, until they are noticed and believed, we can- 
not feel that our prayers are answered. It is what God 
has written that produces what should be felt ; and it is by 
believing what he has promised that hope and peace arise 
in the mind. Now God has promised that " whosoever 
shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." If, 
therefore, we are conscious of having sought, in good earn- 
est the salvation of God, by the blood of the Lamb, and for 
holy purposes, it is now as much our duty to believe that 
we shall be saved, as it was our duty to pray for it. Our 
salvation began, in fact, when we began to seek it with 
our whole heart ; and it will go on, in holiness and happi- 
ness, just in proportion as we cultivate devotional habits. 
Indeed, a devotional spirit is itself one of the chief parts of 
personal salvation, and both the pledge and prelude of the 
whole. 



136 THE PROMISES OP GOD 

It is when these things are understood by the prayerful, 
that the closet becomes, like the house of God, " the gate 
of heaven ; and that we obey the call to " enter" it, with 
something of the same spirit in which we wish to welcome 
the invitation of the Judge, when he shall say from the 
great white throne, " Come, ye blessed, inherit the kingdom 
prepared for you" No one " on the right hand" will refuse 
or hesitate to enter the " kingdom" then ; and no one who 
believes that access to God is in order to acceptance with 
God, will refuse to enter the " closet" now. For the 
prayerless do not believe in the efficacy of prayer. 



No. II. 

THE PROMISES OF GOD TO THE PRAYERFUL 
THE REAL ANSWERS TO PRAYER. 

No complaint is more common, amongst one class of 
those who pray in good earnest for mercy and grace, than 
that they obtain no answer to their prayers. Their strong 
cries for pardon, although often uttered " with tears," are 
not followed by a sense of pardon. The groanings of their 
spirit for peace with God, although " unutterable," owing 
to their depth, are not followed by any calm of conscience. 
Even their entreaties for some some faint gleam of hope, 
lead, to little more than the suppression of absolute despair, 
and not alw r ays to that. 

| In such cases, it is no wonder that complaints should be 
uttered, and dejection felt. " Hope deferred maketh the 
heart sick." It does not, however, harden the heart. Ac- 
cordingly, the complaints of the disappointed breathe no 
charge or insinuation against the faithfulness of God, and 
imply no reflection upon his character. The unsuccessful 
suppliants lay all the blame upon themselves ; and even 



THE ANSWERS TO PRAYER. 137 

those of them who resolve their failure into sovereignty, do 
not impeach the justice of that sovereignty. They feel 
their own utter unworthiness, and see clearly that they 
have no personal or legal claim upon the mercy of God ; 
and under this conviction, all their complaints are deep re- 
grets, and never, in calm moments, murmurings or upbraid- 
ings. Whilst they exclaim, with David, " my God, I 
cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not ; and in the night 
season, and am not silent ;" — they add with him, " But thou 
art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel ; — / am 
a worm, and no man?'' Thus they find, in the holiness of 
the divine character, and in the unholiness of their own 
character, overwhelming and silencing reasons for their 
want of success in prayer. 

Now there is so much real humility in this state of mind, 
and it is so like the temper of David, and of other true 
penitents under the Old Covenant, that no minister of the 
New Covenant would hesitate to encourage such persons. 
He is not, however, an " able" minister of the New Cove- 
nant who merely assures them, " that delay is not denial," 
even if he add to that proverb the sacred oracle, " Though 
the vision tarry, wait for it." There is, indeed, much truth, 
and encouragement too, both in the proverb and the oracle. 
In reference to many things, pertaining to life and godli- 
ness, they can hardly be too often remembered, nor too 
strictly applied, by the prayerful. They are not, however, 
very applicable, nor intended to apply, to the case of fer- 
vent prayer for a personal interest in great salvation. In 
the matter of hope or peace, there is happily, neither de- 
nial or delay on the part of God. " He that asketh, receiv- 
eth ; and he that seeketh, findeth ,-" whether he knoweth or 
not the time. The vision itself does not " tarry," however 
long and slow the prayerful are in discovering it. The 
message sent to Daniel, after his fervent prayers, is in ef- 
fect, the assurance given to every one who is seriously 
seeking for mercy and grace, through the blood of the 
Lamb : — " Fear not ; for from the first day that thou didst 
12* 



13S THE PROMISES OF GOD. 

set thine heart to understand, and to chasten thyself before 
thy God, thy words were heard? In the case of Daniel, an 
angel, indeed, was the bearer of this assurance ; and in 
our case no such messenger is vouchsafed. An apostle of 
the Lamb, however, assures us, upon the same authority, 
that " if we ask any thing according to His will, God hear- 
eth us" John calls this " the confidence," which the pray- 
erful have in God ; and adds, " If we know that he hear us, 
whatsoever we ask, we know that we have (or shall have) the 
petitions we desired of him." 1 John v. 14, 15. This is, 
indeed, strong language, and must seem strange to those 
who have never duly considered it before. But it is not 
stronger than, nor at all different from, that employed by 
the Saviour, when he enforced and encouraged secret 
prayer. " Ask" said Christ, and it shall be given you ; 
seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto 
you." '•' For every one that asketh, recciveth ; and he that 
seeketh,fndeth ; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened" 
Matt. vii. 7, 8. In all this we hear nothing, and see no- 
thing, that sanctions or suggests the popular notion of de- 
nial or delay. 

There are, indeed, instances both of denial and delay to 
be found in the Scriptures. Paul besought the Lord 
" thrice," that the thorn in the flesh might be removed from 
him ; but his request was not complied with. It was not 
thus, however, that his fervent prayers at Damascus were 
treated. There, he was praying for his soul, and for sal- 
vation ; and, at the end of three days, Ananias was sent 
to assure him that he had obtained mercy and found grace. 
Now this fact is characteristic of God's usual plan in an- 
swering prayer. When the blessings prayed for are tem- 
poral things, or those spiritual things which belong to the 
prosperity, rather than to the safety, of the soul, there is 
often, in the former case, denial ; and in the latter, delay : 
but when the prayer is, like that of the publican, for mercy , 
the prayerful, like the publican, go down to their " house 
justified ; for he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." 



THE ANSWERS TO PRAYER. 139 

Matt, xviii. 14. Thus it is that denial, when it occurs in 
the case of the humble, regards temporal things only ; and 
delay, when it occurs, is always owing to some defect of 
their humility. This is one general principle of God's 
plan of answering prayer. Another is, that, if we regard 
sin in our hearts, " the Lord will not hear us." Agreeably 
to this high and holy principle, James explained the un- 
answered prayers of the Jewish converts : " Ye ask, and 
receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it up- 
on your lusts." James iv. 3. Whoever, therefore, seeks 
mercy or grace for unholy, or not for holy, purposes, is sure 
to be denied. All grace is for gracious purposes ; and all 
mercy to promote holiness. A third principle of God's 
plan of answering prayer is, that we " must believe that 
He is the rewarder of them who diligently seek him." 
Hence, the express and authoritative injunction to every 
praying man, " Let him ask in faith, nothing wavering, (or, 
undoubtingly :) for he that wavereth (doubteth) is like a wave 
of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that 
man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord." James 
i. 6, 7. Thus, without faith in prayer, it is impossible to 
please God ; and, therefore, useless to expect answers to it 
from God. For as he who does not believe that God "is," 
will not seek Him at all ; so he who does not believe that 
God is the rewarder of them that diligently seek him, will 
not find him at all. Unbelieving prayer will always be un- 
profitable prayer. 

We have now before us the three chief principles which 
regulate the answers to prayer. By them, therefore, let us 
judge the real character of our own prayers. First — 
Have we prayed humbly ? This is a question which we 
can answer. We know the spirit in which we poured out 
strong cries and tears unto God for mercy. We remember 
distinctly how our souls longed and thirsted, and wrestled, 
for salvation. We can never forget how a sense of its 
greatness, and of our own unworthiness, pressed upon our 
hearts. We saw and felt that there was nothing between 



140 THE PROMISES OF GOD 

us and perishing but the blood of the Lamb ; that we had 
nothing to say for, but all against, ourselves ; and that we 
could do nothing but cry for mercy. Peter, when sinking 
in the waves — the Publican, when smiting on his breast — 
and the dying thief, when exclaiming, " Lord, remember 
me !" were, at once, our examples and our encouragement, 
during those solemn moments of secret prayer. And though, 
on looking back to those penitential approaches to God, we 
feel that they are not so humble as they ought to have been, 
and remember that, at the time, we felt anxious to sink 
lower in self-abasement, and ashamed because our spirit 
was not more broken and contrite ; still, when compared 
with our former state of mind, and when tried by the char- 
acter of the natural mind, we cannot but think that, what- 
ever else our prayers were then, they were truly humble : 
at least, we intended them to be, and tried to make them 
truly humble. We were not conscious, at the moment, of 
any pride, or self-dependance. We meant nothing of the 
kind, but were intent upon humbling ourselves before God, 
and upon repenting in dust and ashes. We were not, in- 
deed, satisfied, at the time, with either our humility or our 
penitence ; but wished both to be deeper. We were not, 
however, pretending, nor holding back our hearts from 
shame or sorrow. Accordingly, we feel now, that — what- 
ever else was the defect of our prayers for mercy, and what- 
ever be the result of them — we were not insincere nor 
heartless in them. 

Well, this is the kind of prayer which God has promised 
to answer. And I thus endeavour to characterize it, and to 
compare it with prayers which have been answered, that 
we may see and feel that we have sought the Lord with our 
whole heart. It is of great importance to be sure of this : 
for, whilst we are not sure that we have prayed aright, we 
cannot believe aright the promises made to the prayerful. 
Settle it, therefore, in your minds, that as surely as you 
have mourned, and been in bitterness of soul before God, 
whilst looking upon the Saviour whom your sins hare 



THE ANSWERS TO PRAYER. 141 

pierced, so surely has " the spirit of grace and supplica- 
tion" been poured out upon you from on high. Yes, you 
have been " taught" to pray, who have thus cried mightily 
unto God. And as you do not and cannot forget these 
prayers, neither will God forget or refuse to answer them. 

Secondly, — Have we had a holy design in our prayers ? 
It is of equal importance to be sure of this also. And, as 
in the former case, we can answer the question. We know 
whether we are in good earnest to be saved from sin, as 
well as from hell. We remember distinctly how we felt, 
and intended, and resolved, in regard to the sins which had 
dominion over us. There was, indeed, a struggle at the 
idea of giving them up, and many a fear lest they should 
regain the mastery. But we did not wish to keep them, 
nor to come under their bondage again. Our desire was, 
that God would not only forgive us sins, but also " cleanse 
us from all iniquity." We knew the fact, and were not 
dissatisfied with it, that if we regarded sin in our hearts 
the Lord would not hear us. 

In a word, we did not wish to sin because grace abounds ; 
but desired grace for gracious purposes. Thus our prayers 
were holy in their object, as well as humble in their spirit. 
Well ; such prayers were never left unanswered. It never 
was, and never will be said in hell, by any one, that he 
prayed earnestly for holiness, but was denied it. And one 
reason why this blessing is never denied, is, that whenever 
it is asked with all the heart, the heart is influenced by the 
Spirit of God, who never awakens holy desires without in- 
tending to gratify them. Settle it, therefore, in your minds, 
that as surely as you have been led to plead earnestly for a 
holy salvation, you will be led by the same Spirit, to rejoice 
in that salvation eventually. This result cannot fail, be- 
cause " God cannot lie." 

Thirdly, — Have we asked in faith, nothing doubting ? 
Nowhere we must, at once, plead guilty of much unbelief. 
We have often doubted, and always doubted, more or less, 
in all our prayers. We can hardly see, in our own case, the 



142 THE PROMISES OF GOD 

possibility of keeping out all doubts from our minds in 
prayer. Indeed, the thing seems impossible, whatever be 
the consequence. The consequence is, however, that the 
doubting man shall receive nothing of the Lord ; and, there- 
fore, undoubting prayer cannot be an impossibility, whatever 
it may seem at first sight. 

This matter must be minutely examined. Now, all 
doubts do not spring from unbelief; and many of them are 
not wilful. Accordingly, whilst we are prone to doubt, we 
take no pleasure in doubting. We should be very glad to 
be quite free from all doubts and misgivings of heart in 
prayer. Whatever sin, therefore, may be in them, we fall 
into it not willingly, but in order to avoid the far greater sin 
of presumption. So little idea or design have we of of- 
fending or dishonouring God, by our doubts, that we actual- 
ly give way to them, lest we should offend him by hoping 
too much or too confidently. We think it more becoming 
and necessary, as sinners, to keep far off from the very ap- 
pearance of presumption or self-complacency. In a word, 
we doubt, because we think it would be sinful or rash, in 
us, to believe that we have obtained the mercy which we 
have been praying for. Whatever evil, therefore, may be 
in cherishing the doubts which we indulge, it has certainly 
been in order to avoid a greater evil, that we have given 
way to them. This is the real fact of the case ; and, there- 
fore, it does not fall fully under the threatening : " Let not 
that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord." 

When, however, prayer has been truly humble in its spirit, 
and holy in its object, it is sinful to entertain any doubt of 
its success, seeing God has promised, yea, sworn, to an- 
swer it. If, indeed, there were no promises, or the promises 
not " yea and amen" in Christ, doubting might be even a 
duty or a virtue ; because, in that case, faith would have no 
clear warrant. But as He who has said, " Ask," has also 
said, " ye shall receive" it is as much our duty to believe his 
promise, as to obey his precept. 

In fact, whatever warrant or reason we have for praying, 



THE ANSWERS TO PRAYER. 143 

we have them also for believing that our prayers will be 
answered. God never said to the seed of Jacob, nor to any- 
one else, " Seek ye my face in vain ;" for he is not a man, 
that he should lie ; nor the son of man, that he should re- 
pent: His word standeth fast unto all generations. 

" But," some will say, " whatever be argued or proved, 
as to the theory, the fact is, that my prayers for an interest 
in the salvation of God have not been answered yet. Years 
have elapsed since I was led to cry mightily unto God 
for mercy, but I have not obtained mercy. I do not set 
this fact against the truth of what I have just read; 
but I state it as an exception to the general rule." Now, 
upon the supposition that you have poured out your heart 
unto God for saving mercy, I here close with you at 
once, and ask — Upon what authority do you affirm that 
you have not found mercy of the Lord ? Where has 
God said that he has refused your prayer ? Who told you 
that you were an exception to the general rule ? " I need 
no one to tell me," you will say : " my own feelings assure 
me of the fact. Should I not have peace and joy in my 
heart, if my prayers for pardon and acceptance had been 
answered ? But I am a stranger to peace and joy, and al- 
most to hope too ; and, surely, that is authority and reason 
enough for saying that my prayers are not answered." 

This is, indeed, a strong case, and almost startling to 
one who has affirmed, and is pledged to confirm the fact, 
that pardon and acceptance are never denied, when they 
are earnestly sought for holy purposes. I repeat the fact, 
however, and proceed to redeem my pledge. Now, you 
say, that you feel that your prayers are not yet answered : 
accordingly, you believe also that they are not. But how 
would you feel if you believed that your prayers for mercy 
had been presented by the Saviour, and accepted by God ? 
Do you not see, at a glance, that if you believed this to be 
true, you would feel both peace and joy ? Well ; do you 
not see, with equal clearness, that whilst you do not believe 
this, you cannot experience peace or joy ? It is impossible 



144 THE PROMISES OF GOD 

to feel the peace of believing, whilst yon disbelieve. It is 
unreasonable to expect to feel the answer of prayer, whilst 
you think that it is unanswered. You cannot feel differ- 
ently from what you think. Accordingly, whenever any 
one has felt his prayers answered, it must have been by 
believing that Christ had presented them, and that God had 
thus accepted them, for the sake of Christ. 

" But," you say, " I do not know that my prayers have 
been thus heard at the throne of grace. If I could think 
that the Saviour had interceded for me, I could then easily 
believe that I was accepted in the Beloved." Well! Do 
you know any thing to the contrary ? Can you prove that 
He, who never shut his ear to cry of a perishing sinner, has 
overlooked you 1 Would that be like the Saviour's well- 
known and long-tried character, as a Mediator between God 
and man ? Is it not far more in harmony with all you have 
read of Him, to believe that, when he saw you at the foot 
of the cross crying for mercy, he took up your cause 1 You 
know that he has taken up many such, since he took his 
place, as an Intercessor, before the throne ; and he is not 
changed since you began to plead at the footstool. j 

" True," you say ; " but how can I know that he has in- 
terceded for me 1 You say, believe that your prayers are 
accepted through Him ; but where is my authority or war- 
rant for believing this ? Would you have me to believe it 
to be true, merely because I wish it to be true ? I may say 
here, (but in another spirit,) ' What sign showest thou, that 
we may believe V " 

Now you are right in thus requiring a higher authority 
than my word, or your own wishes, before venturing to be- 
lieve that you have obtained the mercy of God unto eternal 
life. Nothing short of a divine warrant ought to satisfy you ; 
for nothing less can sanction a divine hope. But allow me 
to ask here, what do you mean by a divine warrant for be- 
lieving that the mercy you implored is granted ? What 
would you consider sufficient authority for the belief of this ? 
Would the written word of God, in the Scriptures, satisfy 



THE ANSWERS TO PRAYER. 145 

you ? If so, I redeem my pledge at once : " He that asketh, 
receiveth ; and he that seeketh, jindeth .'" Are you disap- 
pointed ? Are };ou ready to say — '• / have asked, but not 
received ; sought, but not found." I am not sure of that. 
But, were it true that you had not yet found the mercy you 
had sought, it is equally true that you are warranted, by the 
express word of God, to believe that you shall find it event- 
ually. " Seek and ye shall find" is the assurance given in 
Scripture to all the prayerful. And how gloriously Paul 
amplifies and applies it : " For whosoever shall call on the 
name of the Lord shall be saved.'''' Here, then, is a divine 
warrant for believing that your prayers for salvation will be 
answered ; a fact which may well fill your heart with a hope 
full of immortality, and both increase and confirm your de- 
votional habits. 

But even this, pleasing as it is, is not all the truth. If 
you have prayed like the publican, you are "justified" like 
the publican. This is the scriptural fact ; and it is by be- 
lieving it, that peace comes into the mind. In this way 
only could the publican have known his own justification. 
No voice from the mercy-seat within the veil answered his 
prayer for mercy ; no messenger from heaven assured him 
of pardon : if, therefore, he went dow r n to his house with a 
sense of pardon and acceptance, it must have been derived 
from believing the often-revealed fact, that God delighteth 
in mercy, and is the re warder of them that diligently seek 
him. 

This subject cannot, however, be well pursued, until the 
affinity of fervent prayer and saving faith be clearly under- 
stood. 

13 



146 THE AFFINITY OF FERVENT 



No. III. 

THE AFFINITY OF FERVENT PRAYER AND 
S AVI N G FAITH. 

Whatever we may think of prayer, and however doubt- 
ful we may feel as to its answer, we are quite sure that faith, 
when genuine, cannot fail to save the soul. " He that be- 
lieveth shall never perish.'''' He that belicveth hath eternal 
life." Thus real faith places the safety of the soul beyond 
all risk and doubt. Accordingly, were we as sure that we 
had believed with the heart as that we have prayed with the 
heart — as sure that we are true believers as that we are 
praying persons, we should then feel that we were both 
warranted and welcome to consider ourselves the children of 
God, and to appropriate to ourselves all the great and pre- 
cious promises. But we are not so sure that we have truly 
believed as that we have truly prayed. We have no doubt of 
the sincerity of our prayers for mercy and grace ; but we have 
many doubts as to the genuineness of our faith. We know 
when we began to pray in good earnest ; but we cannot tell 
when we began to believe in Christ with the heart, nor are 
we sure that our believing is faith. The consequence is, that 
whilst thus doubtful of the reality of our faith, we doubt 
whether our prayers are, or ever will be, answered. 

I thus identify myself with you in your difficulties upon 
this subject, that I may gain your confidence, and prove to 
you that I have felt them — felt them also long and deeply — 
that I have as little inclination to speculate or theorize about 
faith, as to blaspheme. I have no new system to establish, 
nor any old ones to explode. What I have studied and 
prayed to ascertain for myself is — the exact thing — the 
precise state of mind, which both God and the Lamb call 
for, under the name of faith or believing ; and with which 
they have graciously connected the promise of salvation. 
Now, in examining the word of God on this subject, I find, 

First, That the Scriptures do not distinguish between fer- 



PRAYER AND SAVING FAITH. 147 

vent prayer and saving faith; but treat them as the same 
thing. Both the old and the New Testament distinguish, 
and that by the broadest lines of demarcation, between faith 
and works — between believing and doing ; but never between 
believing and praying. Accordingly, there are no instan- 
ces, in Scripture, of any prayerful person being represented 
or treated as an unbeliever, or without faith. The prayer of 
the hypocrite and the wicked is, of course, declared to be 
an " abomination to the Lord," whilst they continue such : 
but when the wicked man forsakes his way and the un- 
righteous man his thoughts, and turns unto the Lord with 
supplication, he is recognised and treated as a believer : 
" God will have mercy upon him, and our God abundantly 
pardon :" the very promise made to faith. Yea, whenever 
prayer is humble in its spirit, and holy in its object, it is 
regarded by God as faith, even if the suppliant be " trem- 
bling" at the word of God. Isa. lxvi. 1,2. "A broken 
heart," on account of sin, is never represented in Scripture 
as " an evil heart of unbelief ;" nor a " contrite spirit," even 
if only mourning, as without faith : but the promise to 
mourners in Zion is the very same that Christ made to his 
real disciples — " They shall be comforted." Even those 
who are only hungering and thirsting after righteousness 
(and thus, in their own apprehension, "far from righteous- 
ness," and, as some would say, " yet in unbelief,") are not 
classed with unbelievers, but "blessed" by him who search- 
eth the heart, and assured by him that " they shall be filled." 

" This is not the manner of man, O Lord God /" Not the 
manner of those who make faith to consist in the belief of 
their own election : not the manner of those who make as- 
surance the essence of faith : nor the manner of those who 
treat the timid and trembling as unbelievers. It is, however, 
the manner of him who is both the object and the judge of 
faith. He recognises and welcomes the first outgoings and 
yearnings of the heart towards him, as manifestations of a 
believing disposition, and as the first-fruits of the Spirit. 

There is not, then, a moral distinction between prayer 



148 THE AFFINITY OF FERVENT 

and faith : they are not different things in their nature. 
Why then should you distinguish them, seeing the Scrip- 
tures do not ? If you have prayed with the heart, you have 
believed with the heart. 

Secondly. In farther examining the Scriptures on this 
subject, I find that they virtually identify fervent prayer with 
saving faith. Not only do they not distinguish between 
prayer and faith, but they represent them as the same thing 
in effect, and ascribe to them the same efficacy. Remem- 
ber the case of the Syrophenician mother: when applying 
to Christ, on behalf of her daughter, she said nothing about 
the nature of her faith, nor of its genuineness, but kept on 
pleading for mercy. Her pleading was her faith. Accord- 
ingly, the Saviour called it so : " O woman, great is thy faith ; 
be it unto thee even as thou wilt" It is true that, although she 
said nothing about her faith, she showed much faith, by perse- 
vering in prayer, notwithstanding many and great discour- 
agements. And have not you done the same ? If you had 
no real faith in Christ — no confidence in his blood — no high 
opinion of his gracious heart, would you, could, you, have con- 
tinued praying in his name ? You may not have been accus- 
tomed to hear, and, therefore, not to think, that prayer is the 
best expression of faith in the Saviour ; just as holiness is 
the best proof of faith in him. The fact, however, is self- 
evident the moment it is suggested. You now see, at a 
glance, that you would not pray at all in the name of Christ, 
if you had no faith at all in his name ; that you would not 
plead his merits, nor appeal to his blood, if you had no faith 
in their efficacy ; that you would not seek an inierest in his 
salvation, if you did not believe him to be an all-sufficient 
Saviour. You do not pray to angels nor to the saints in 
heaven, as the Papist do. Why 1 Because you have no 
faith in them. And do you not see, that if you had no 
faith in Christ, you would not pray to him either, nor in 
his name ? The thing is self-evident. 

Consider, now, the case of the publican. There is no- 
thing said of his faith, and he himself said nothing about it. 



PRAYER AND SAVING FAITH. 149 

We see nothing in his case but humble prayer. But we 
are told that he was "justified:" and, as justification is only 
by faith alone, it is evident that Christ regarded the publi- 
can's prayers as faith. And it is obvious that he never 
would have prayed as he did for mercy, if he had not be- 
lieved in the mercifulness of the God of Israel. 

Remember also the case of the thief on the cross. His 
application to the Saviour was by prayer : " Lord, remember 
me when thou comest into thy kingdom." Here, indeed, 
there was much faith expressed and implied ; but still it 
was in the form of prayer, and not more than our prayers 
express and imply, when we make the blood of Christ all 
our plea for mercy and grace. And, as the praying male- 
factor was treated as a believing sinner, we are thus en- 
couraged to pray, and warranted to regard humble prayer 
as cordial faith. 

Remember also the case of Paul at Damascus. It was 
not said, Behold, he believeth ; but, " Behold, he prayeth ;" 
— evidently because praying is virtually the same as be- 
lieving, or the best way of expressing faith. Accordingly, 
when he became an Apostle, and stood forth as the chief 
champion of the doctrine of justification by faith alone, he 
did not distinguish between prayer and faith ; but designa- 
ted as believers, " all that in every place call upon the name 
of Jesus Christ ;" and declared that " whosoever shall call 
upon the name of the Lord, shall be saved.'''' 

Thus it is that the Scriptures teach almost the identity 
of faith and prayer ; and uniformly represent believers as 
prayerful, and the prayerful as believers. This Scriptural 
fact is of incalculable value, both to those who have been 
perplexed by the public controversies about faith, and to 
those who have been perplexed by their own fears and 
jealousies. Both classes are more numerous than many 
suppose. But what a pity, and how unnecessary, that the 
prayerful amongst them should waste their time or their 
spirits in doubting and discussing the genuineness of their 
faith ! How much better that time would be employed, if 

13* 



150 THE AFFINITY OF FERVENT 

devoted to secret prayer. That would bring and keep be- 
fore the mind, in light and loveliness, the grand object of 
faith — Christ crucified ; and when he is before the mind, 
in the brightness of his glory, and the freeness of his grace ; 
in the love of his heart, and the omnipotence of his hand ; 
in the all-sufficiency of his sacrifice, and the authority of 
his example, unbelief is overpowered, and fear dispersed, 
like clouds before the sun. 

What, now, do you think of your own case ? Your chief 
difficulty has been, hitherto, to arrive at a satisfactory con- 
clusion as to the reality of your faith in Christ. Sometimes 
you have suspected that it was a mere historical faith. But 
does historical faith pray fervently 1 At other times, you 
have thought it no better than the faith of devils. But 
devils do not pray, whatever they may believe. You have 
also thought it dead faith. But does dead faith pray earn- 
estly ? You have often thought it the mere faith of educa- 
tion or custom — that vague and vapid kind of believing, 
which any one can practise, and which every one professes. 
But does this current faith lead into the closet, with strong 
cries and tears for mercy ? 1 would not, for worlds, flatter 
you : but I must say, that if you are in the habit of praying 
with the heart in secret, and in the name of Christ, and for 
a holy salvation, your faith is " the faith of God's elect." 

" Bui," some one may say, " I find it quite as difficult to 
know if I pray aright, as if I believe aright. I am as much 
ashamed of my prayers as of my faith. Sometimes, I can- 
not pray at all ; at other times, my prayers are hurried and 
heartless ; and, at all times, they are so imperfect that I 
can hardly see how God can answer them." This is a 
very common complaint, and a familiar acknowledgment 
What, however, do you really mean to confess by this form 
of words 1 Do you mean to say that you only pretend, 
when you pray for mercy ? — That you are insincere, when 
you ask for salvation ? — That you feel no need of them, 
nor care whether you obtain them or not ? Do you mean 
that in using the name of Christ, and referring to his blood, 



PRAYER AND SAVING FAITH. 151 

you think nothing about them, or see no value in them 1 
If, indeed, such be the character of your prayers, you may 
well say that you cannot see how God can answer them. 
He never did, and never will, answer hypocritical prayers. 
But this is not what you mean. Well ; do you mean to 
say that you were never in earnest about the salvation of 
vour soul ? — never felt what you said, when confessing your 
sins, and seeking an interest in the Saviour ? — never wept, 
nor wished to weep tears of penitence before God ? In a 
word, do you mean to say that you never felt any thing of 
the spirit of the publican, when he smote upon his breast, 
and cried, " God be merciful to me a sinner ?" If so, why 
do you call your heartless words, prayers ? But this is not 
what you mean. You are shocked at such an idea, and 
wonder how I could suspect you of such impiety. The fact 
is, I have no suspicion of the kind ; but have had recourse 
to these questions, just that you may discover your own 
sincerity, amidst all the imperfections of your prayers. 
What you mean chiefly is, that though, at times, you have 
felt an humble and broken spirit, and could weep before 
God, and pour out all your heart ; yet, more frequently you 
have been cold and formal. You mean, too, that you are 
sadly harassed by vain and wandering thoughts, even when 
you are upon your knees before God ; and that often, when 
you even wish to enjoy communion with him, your heart 
will neither fix nor feel as you desire. But all this is your 
grief and shame. You are not reconciled to such praying. 
You do not like — you dislike, the bare idea of going on in 
this way. Nothing would please you more than getting 
over these hinderances. You are never so happy as when 
you unburden and unbosom all your soul before God, and 
throw all your heart into every word you utter. You can 
never forget the hallowed moments of retirement, when 
you first caught the spirit of prayer, and felt what it is to 
commune with God at the mercy-seat. You understand, at 
once, what Melancthon meant, when he said of Luther, 
ki I have overheard him in secret prayer ; and he spoke as 



152 THE AFFINITY OF FERVENT 

if God had been in the closet with him." You can well 
believe this of Luther ; for you have, at times, felt as if 
God was in your closet. Accordingly, what you want is, 
to get back to this devotional spirit, and to continue in it. 
No wonder ! There is, however, quite as much that is 
pleasing to God, in the broken sighs and unutterable groan- 
ings of a contrite spirit, as in the ardours of sensible com- 
munion. A heart shrinking from and resisting vain thoughts, 
and struggling to throw off the world and the flesh, is, per- 
haps, as fully approved by him who searcheth the heart, as 
when, 

" On eagle-pinions borne 

It climbs the mount of God." 

What do you think, now, of the sentiment, that whoso- 
ever hath really prayed with the heart for a holy salvation 
hath actually believed with the heart ? You are, perhaps, 
equally afraid to admit or deny it. It is, perhaps, somewhat 
new to you : and, if it be altogether new to you, you ought 
to suspend your judgment upon it, until you have examined 
it more fully. You cannot be too jealous of novelties in reli- 
gion. It does not, however, follow, because a truth is new 
to you, that it is new in itself. The spirituality of the di- 
vine law is as old as the law itself ; but it was treated as a 
novelty by the Jews, when Christ explained and enforced 
it upon the mount ; because they had made void the law by 
the traditions of men. In this case it was the gloss of the 
elders that was the real novelty, and the doctrine of Christ 
was the old truth. In like manner, Popery, although an- 
cient, in reference to time, is, in reference to Scripture, a 
real novelty ; and the Protestant creed, the old faith of the 
Christian Church. It is not, therefore, the length of the 
time during which mystical views of faith have been cur- 
rent, that stamps them correct. Their long currency is it- 
self a reason for suspecting their correctness, especially 
when the effect of them upon the truly serious and prayer- 
ful is discouraging. For that cannot be a right view of 



PRAYER AND SAVING FAITH. 153 

faith, however old it may be, which makes salvation appear 
as difficult by the gospel as it is by the law, or as far off by 
faith as it is by works. There must be something awfully 
defective in every definition of faith which discourages or 
perplexes a soul intent upon obtaining an interest in Christ, 
and conformity to his image. The whole gospel is intend- 
ed and calculated to meet the wishes of every such soul ; 
and, therefore, if our views of faith only tantalize these 
wishes, or make that gospel to appear other than " good 
news" to us, those views must be erroneous in something ; 
and to contend for them is to contend against the gospel 
itself. 

This, I am fully aware, is not intended by those who 
teach, nor by those who hold, mystical views of faith. No- 
thing, I am persuaded, is further from their hearts, than to 
defeat or encumber the gospel. Their real design is to 
exalt and maintain that gospel, above the unholy level of slight 
and superficial views ; and to secure a faith " full of good 
fruits." But still, if this system really prevent faith, and 
make the gospel appear as unmanageable as the law, no 
excellence of motive must be allowed to shield it from sol- 
emn reprehension. The express language of the Scrip- 
tures is, that faith is the hearty belief of the truth concern- 
ing the person and work of Christ ; and that the best ex- 
pression of believing with the heart, is, praying with the 
heart. This definition of faith is so simple that any one 
can understand it at once ; and if it appear at all new to 
you, the novelty is not in itself, but in your notice of the 
fact ; for the fact itself is as old as the Bible. In like man- 
ner, if, in reference to some old theological definitions of 
faith, it seems new, it merely sounds new ; for in Scripture 
the prayerful are always treated as true believers. 

But it will be said, " that the old definitions of faith, are 
chiefly derived from the old divines ; and that such remarks 
implicate them. Did not Owen and Baxter, Hervey and 
Henry, Watts and Doddridge, Boston and the old Erskines, 
understand faith ?" 



154 THE AFFINITY OF FERVENT 

Understand faith! Yes, and possessed too, infinitely 
more of it than any writer who has arraigned them. They 
were " full of faith ;" and it was their fulness which gave 
rise to that cast of mystery and indefmiteness which char- 
acterizes some of their explanations of faith. They were, 
in fact, so full of the thing, that they could not find a simple 
name for it. Words were the least part of their explana- 
tions of faith : their spirit was the living illustration of its 
meaning. There was no mist around the subject, whilst 
these thoughtful and devotional men men were pouring a]l 
their soul into their sermons. Their hearers could then 
see that, however faith was defined, the real essence of it 
was a right state of mind towards the Saviour ; and that 
prayer was the best expression of it. It is, therefore, only 
when men of " little faith" employ the complex names, by 
which the old Divines designated and described faith, that 
confusion is created. It is their words, when in the lips 
of men without their spirit, which " darken, knowledge," 
and occasion perplexity. Accordingly, all the truly devo- 
tional men, who have clear views of faith, find no difficulty 
(but unspeakable delight) in the deep thoughts and holy 
unction of the old divines. Their adoring and realizing 
views of the Lamb slain, arrange themselves gloriously 
around definite expressions. 

All their vague modes of expression on the subject of 
faith are forgotten, in the presence of their vast and radi- 
ant ideas of the great salvation. " The savour of the 
knowledge of Christ," is always full and fresh in their 
pages. In a word, they perplex none but those who have 
never studied the subject, and offend none but the fastidious 
and those who prefer names to things. 

And yet, these great and good men have been treated in 
this age with unsparing contempt. The Sandemanian 
school has recklessly consigned them, and their theology, 
too, to the very doom which the Saviour denounced on the 
Pharisees and the traditions of the Elders. Blind unbe- 
lievers, leading the blind, is the softest description given 



PRAYER AND SAVING FAITH. 155 

of them. This outrage on truth and decency has hardly a 
parallel in the annals of polemics. It seems, indeed, im- 
possible that any man, possessed of common sense or com- 
mon honesty, could, for a moment, confound Owen and 
Baxter, Hervey, and the old Erskines, with unbelievers ! 
It is like calling the stars dark, or the sun cold. Accord- 
ingly, all sober minds have no more tendency to suspect 
the faith of these worthies, than that of the Apostles, or 
that of " Abraham, the father of the faithful." And had 
their libellers, instead of calling them unbelievers, attempted 
to prove against them " an evil heart of unbelief," or to 
demonstrate that their sentiments amount to unbelief, even 
they must have seen and felt that failure was inevitable, 
and the enterprise as absurd as an attempt to prove that 
light was darkness. 

It must be allowed, and may be regretted, that the old 
Divines do not always express themselves clearly upon the 
subject of faith. 

As the name of what God and the Lamb call for, faith is 
often equivocal in their pages ; but the thing — the state of 
mind required by the gospel, beams, yea, blazes, throughout 
their writings. Christ is " all in all" in their own religion, 
and their sole aim is to make him so in the religion of 
others. Accordingly, no man, seriously inquiring the way 
of salvation, ever rose from their works, under an impres- 
sion that they were leading him away from the cross of 
Christ, to his own righteousness. Many have felt that some 
of the old writers lead inquirers in rather a round-about 
way to the cross : but they have felt at the same time, 
oven when that route was most circuitous, that it was only 
to make their arrival more certain. The slowness is al- 
ways for the sake of sureness, and never for self-righteous 
purposes. 

No one owes these acknowledgments to the old Divines 
more than I do, and no one makes them with greater sin- 
cerity. I prefer infinitely, their state of mind towards the 
Saviour, to all the theories of faith extant. It was a living 



156 THE AFFINITY OF FERVENT 

lecture on the whole subject ; and the chief reason of its 
being misunderstood by some, and misrepresented by oth- 
ers, is, that they have not spirituality enough to enter into 
the spirit of these " men of God." Their words, in unbap- 
tized, and even in half-baptized, lips, must always lose 
more than half their meaning, and convey to others still less 
of it. They, in fact, defined faith, as a fond mother would 
define her love to her first-born ; not logically, nor literally, 
but with an abundance of words corresponding to the 
abundance of their feelings. " Out of the abundance of the 
heart, the mouth speaketh," — is the real explanation of their 
system. 

But whilst I thus heartily, though imperfectly, attempt 
to do justice to the memory and writings of the old Divines^ 
I do not forget that their works are not the word of God. 
They themselves never intended that their definitions of 
faith should, in anywise, defeat or encumber the gospel. 
The most voluminous amongst the puritans would have 
burned or rewritten their folios, if they had suspected them 
of any such tendency. They had, however, no such ten- 
dency at the time ; they were written agreeably to the 
modes of speaking in use then. And, as our modes of 
expression are fewer and more definite, what is wanted is, 
not an exposure of their defects, but a full return to the 
language of Scripture. The word of God is able to make 
us wise unto salvation, if all the other books in the world 
were annihilated ; and it ought to be consulted and submitted 
to, without any reference to them as authorities. If, there- 
fore, you have derived from any human writings, or from 
any human source, such an idea of faith as makes 
believing aright appear to you as difficult as obeying per- 
fectly, you cannot abandon it too soon, whoever be the au- 
thor of it. Whoever he was, he did not intend that his 
definition of faith should make faith seem an impossibility 
in your case. He drew it out, in the first instance, for him- 
self ; and, therefore, you may be sure that it did not appear 
to him what it seems to you. He saw it in a light that 



PRAYER AND SAVING FAITH. 157 

left his own way and welcome to the cross quite open, and 
under this impression, he gave it to the public, in hope that 
the definition would open their way. But if it shut you 
out, then all that you know of its author, (and the more 
that is good the better for my argument,) warrants and 
binds you to give up his definitions, and to throw yourself 
at once upon the words which the Holy Ghost teacheth. 

But this digression is already too long. Let us return to 
the direct subject of the essay — the oneness of faith and 
prayer. Now you feel the necessity of faith. You are 
anxious to possess it. You have often tried to exercise 
faith in the Saviour. You have occasionally felt as if the 
emotions and desires of your heart towards him were ripen- 
ing into real faith. But still you are not satisfied. You 
are far from sure whether you have, indeed, believed with 
the heart. If, however, you are sure that you have prayed 
with the heart, there is no occasion for all this uncertainty 
on the question of faith. For it is self-evident, that, if you 
had no faith in Christ, you would not offer up all your pray- 
ers in the name of Christ, nor make his merit your only 
plea at the mercy-seat. 

It is, indeed, true that thousands unite, every Sabbath, 
in prayers which make the merits of Christ the sole plea ; 
and yet evince no faith. But theirs is not a parallel case 
to yours. Mercy is the inmost desire of your heart, and 
the blood of Christ your only ground of hope. You 
can no longer be satisfied with repeating words, however 
good. You must now express desires ; and, sometimes, 
they are so many and strong, that you cannot find words to 
express them. And such is your state of mind, in reference 
to your own salvation, that neither the number nor the na- 
ture of your prayers satisfy you. It is just what you see 
in Christ, and not what you see in them that keeps you 
praying. You feel that, but for what he is and has done, 
you must soon despair and perish. It is not your prayers, 
but his merits, which give you any hope. 

Now such being the facts of your case, it is really un- 
vol. i. — 14 



158 THE AFFINITY OF FERVENT 

wise, if not criminal, to question the reality of your faith. 
Its weakness is very obvious ; but its sincerity is self-evi- 
dent. No unbeliever could pray in this spirit. There is 
no instance in Scripture of any unbeliever crying mightily 
unto God for mercy, through the blood of the Lamb. It is, 
indeed, difficult to say how far wicked men may go at times, 
in praying for mercy in the name of Christ. You have no 
doubt, known men who could pray with wonderful fervour, 
and with every appearance of sincerity, and who have been 
found out afterward to have been living in gross sin at the 
very time. Neither public, nor social prayer, however 
remarkable, is, therefore, any sure test of faith or sincerity. 
Secret prayer is the test. The men who can pray and 
drink — pray and lie — pray and defraud — pray and be prof- 
ligate, do not, dare not, pray in their closets. Secret sin 
cannot be combined with secret prayer. The yet unmask- 
ed sensualist may at times, be forced by fear, to fall down 
alone before God, and break the silence of the night by the 
groans of remorse : but if he continue to sin he will soon 
discontinue secret prayer. His closet will be more intoler- 
able to him than even the sanctuary, whilst he persists in 
sinning against light and conviction. 

These solemn facts ought never to be forgotten ; but ex- 
cept as tests of character, and warnings of danger, what 
have they to do with your case ? You want to be saved 
from sin, as well as from the curse. You are willing and 
solicitous to be holy, as well as safe. Is it not because 
some vice still enslaves you, that you are afraid lest your 
prayers should not be answered, or that your faith may 
prove vain. Your fear arises chiefly from what you have 
been as a sinner, and from what you are as a penitent. 
The past alarms you by its guilt, and the present by its im- 
perfections. It is not, however, actual nor habitual sinning 
now, that clouds your mind with doubts and fears. Your 
present difficulty (and it is a pressing one) is to see how 
prayers, so imperfect as yours, can be answered or accept- 
ed by God, especially as you are not sure that you pray in 



PRAYER AND SAVING FAITH. 159 

faith. Here is your chief discouragement : not only all 
the " plagues" of your heart seem to forbid hope, but you 
suspect that it is still " an evil heart of unbelief ; and 
knowing that without faith, it is impossible to please God, 
you are thus afraid at times to hope or pray. And yet you 
cannot give up either altogether. Well, you have no occa- 
sion to give up hoping or praying ; for praying with the 
heart is believing with the heart. 

This is, I am aware, merely bringing the matter to the 
same point again, without any additional proof of the truth 
of that point. More proof is, however, at hand. Now 
nothing can be conceived as more opposite or unlike to un- 
belief than humble prayer, in the name of Christ, for a holy 
salvation. Whatever difficulty you may fin 1, therefore, in 
calling such prayer faith, it is certainly impossible to call 
it unbelief, without violating all propriety. Unbelief, even 
when in its softest form, is careless about salvation — in- 
different to the Saviour — averse to prayer — heedless of 
holiness, and not afraid of the wrath to come. Unbelief is 
not ashamed of itself — nor much shocked at sin, except 
when sin is very gross indeed. Unbelief has no ardent 
longings after union with Christ or communion with God. 
Unbelief does not try to get hold of the promises, nor pray 
for their fulfilment. Unbelief does not weep at the foot 
of the cross, nor rejoice to go to the mercy-seat. 

This is Unbelief. But this is not the state of your 
mind towards the salvation or the service of God and the 
Lamb. Almost the very reverse of this is the real state of 
your feelings and desires. Thank God, therefore, and take 
courage ! 



160 PRAYER, PROOF OF THE WORK 



No. IV. 

PRAYER, PROOF OF THE WORK, AND WIT- 
NESS OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

Whoever has a praying spirit, has both the work and 
the witness of the Holy Spirit begun within him. All real 
suppliants are really partakers of the Spirit of grace and 
supplication. Were this well understood, and habitually 
remembered by the prayerful, it would both confirm their 
love to prayer, and settle that absorbing question — Am I 
born again of the Spirit 1 This solemn question has often 
made you solemn. It has occasionally agitated your whole 
soul. No wonder : for " if any man? however moral or 
amiable, " have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his :" 
" Except a man be born of the Spirit, he cannot enter into 
the Kingdom of God." Ever since you read those solemn 
oracles, so as to mark and inwardly digest them, you have 
felt that saving piety is more than a mere good character, 
and that personal religion is more than the discharge of re- 
ligious duties. These " true sayings of God," have turned 
your attention in upon the state of your heart, as well as 
out upon the state of your morals. You feel now that you 
must " be born again," if you would enter the kingdom of 
God. Your convictions on this point are gone so far be- 
yond those of Nicodemus, that it is needless to say unto 
you, " Marvel not that ye must be born again." You have 
ceased to " marvel" at the necessity of a change of heart, 
ever since you discovered the plagues of your own heart. 
Any marvelling you ever felt has given place to praying for 
a new heart, and a right spirit. To be the subject of the 
work and witness of the Holy Spirit is now your chief 
concern, and your daily prayer. And your chief fear is, 
lest that Spirit, whom you have grieved so often, and neg- 
lected so long, should refuse to take away the heart of 
stone, or to give you a heart of flesh. You even feel, at 



OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 161 

times, as if he had refused to work upon your soul, and 
ceased to strive with you. And even when these strivings 
are renewed, you are afraid that they do not amount to sa- 
ving operations of the Holy Spirit, because they do not pro- 
duce such a change of heart as you desire to experience. 
And even when you are almost convinced that what you 
have experienced is the beginning of His work on your 
heart, how often are all your fond hopes overthrown again 
by the questions — " But where is the witness of the Spirit 
with my spirit? If I were, indeed, born of the Spirit, 
would he not witness within me, that I am a child of God ?" 

Such are some of your ponderings and perplexities upon 
this solemn subject. Sometimes you think that the Holy 
Spirit has given you up entirely ; at other times, that what 
you feel is only his common, not his special influence ; and, 
even when it is best with you, you are,, as you imagine, 
such a stranger to the witness of the Spirit, that you can 
take but little comfort from what you feel of his work. 
Much of this fear is, however, really unnecessary ; for it 
chiefly arises from misapprehending the work and witness 
of the Holy Spirit. A spirit of prayer is proof of the pos- 
session of something of both, in the case of all who are 
looking to Christ, and trying to be holy. Prayer, even if 
secret, proves nothing of the work or witness of the Spirit, 
in the case of those who are going on in open or secret 
sin. The sensual have not the Spirit. But where prayer 
is loved, and not belied by sensuality or dishonesty, it is it- 
self the first-fruit of the Spirit, and positive evidence of his 
saving operations being begun in the heart. 

Did this never occur to your mind in the course of all 
your ponderings on the subject ? Who inclined your heart 
to pray ? Who overcame the aversion and reluctance you 
once felt to pouring out your heart unto God in secret ? " Who 
opened thine eyes" to see your need of an interest in Christ 
so clearly, that you can no longer refrain from praying to 
" be found in him ?" Who brought you to feel that there is 
nothing between you and hell, but the blood of Christ V 
14* 



162 PRAYER, PROOF OF THE WORK 

Who awakened your present convictions and desires 1 
Here is a change, and a change for the better, in the state 
of your mind: who produced it? If you are afraid to 
ascribe it to the Spirit of God, to what can you trace it ? 
Satan would not teach you such lessons ; and, certainly, 
the example of the world has not led you into your closet 
to cry for mercy and grace. Your trials in life may have 
had much to do with the change ; but that fact, instead of 
disproving it to be a divine change, makes it more than prob- 
able that it is so ; for nothing is more common, in the work 
of the Spirit, than to sanctify the trials of life to the good 
of the soul. In every view of the case, therefore, it is 
your duty to regard the change, from a prayerless to a 
prayerful spirit, as the effect of divine influence and opera- 
tion. There is no other way of accounting for it satisfac- 
torily and rationally. It is a " good gift" so far ; and, there- 
fore, it must have come " down from the Father of lights." 
You will be convinced of this, by observing how your views 
and feelings in prayer correspond with the scriptural ac- 
counts of the work of the Spirit. Paul says, " The Spirit 
maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be 
uttered." Thus he ascribes to the Holy Spirit's special in- 
tercession, a kind of prayer which we hardly regard as 
prayer at all. We are apt to think that we do not pray in 
the spirit, unless we enjoy great enlargement of heart, and 
freedom of utterance. Accordingly, the devotional hours 
which we recollect with most pleasure, and which we can 
never forget, are those which were marked with a holy 
calm — a sweet melancholy — and a free flow of tears, and 
tenderness, and suitable words. Then we felt that the 
Spirit was, indeed, helping our infirmities ! And could we 
always, or even often, pray in that manner, we should al- 
most feel warranted to believe that we had the seal of the 
Spirit upon our souls. But as it is not often that we enjoy 
such enlargement of heart, we hardly know, at times, what 
to think of our experience. 

Now, it is not to divert your attention or your love from 



OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 163 

this kind of prayer, that I remind you of another kind, 
which if less pleasing to you, is, perhaps, more pleasing to 
God, and certainly more decisive of the help and presence 
of the Spirit. " Groanings which cannot be uttered," prove, 
far more than any flow of words or feelings, that the heart 
is right with God, and that the Holy Spirit is working 
mightily in it. We may look back with shame upon those 
approaches to the mercy-seat, during which we could 
hardly utter a single word, but merely groaned in spirit : 
but the intercessor before the throne was not ashamed to 
present those desires to the Father, nor to say of them, " a 
broken and a contrite heart, God, thou wilt not despise." 
He saw in those unutterable groans and deep sighs, not the 
accidental workings of our own nature, but the workings of 
" a divine nature," struggling against the body of sin and 
death — the strivings of the spirit against the flesh. Yes, 
when you thought that you were not praying at all, while 
thus groaning under the burden of your sin and unworthi- 
ness, you were praying best. And were the Saviour to say 
to you, as to Nathaniel, " When thou wast under the fig- 
tree, I saw thee," he would undoubtedly refer chiefly to the 
times when you were so troubled in spirit that you could 
not speak. I he prayers we have most cause to be ashamed 
of are those which we can go through without effort or feel- 
ing. We are not praying at all, whilst merely repeating 
words. Nothing is prayer but the desires of the heart ; and 
they are never so fully or directly from the spirit of God, 
as when they are unutterable by words. Indeed, this is a 
state of mind quite unnatural to man. There is nothing in 
us, nor in human means, to produce it. It gets no help 
from any power or affection of our nature. Imagination 
will help the prayer of joy, and the prayer of faith, and the 
prayer of gratitude ; but not the humble prayer of peni- 
tence. It is from the " intercession" of the Spirit. 

Now you know, experimentally, something of this kind 
of prayer. There are times when a sense of your own 
imworthiness comes over your soul like a heavy and suffo- 



164 PRAYER, PROOF OF THE WORK 

eating cloud. You can hardly breathe under it. You feel 
as if your heart would break, it is so full and so heavy. It 
is only now and then that you are able to groan out the cry 
of Job, " Behold, I am vile." The prayer of the publican 
is not humble enough for your sinking spirit ; you would 
go deeper in self-abasement if you knew how. You abhor 
yourself, and lay your face in the dust before God. You 
are terrified at despair, yet afraid to hope. You can hardly 
see how God can pity you. It seems to you almost pre- 
sumption to pray for mercy ; and when you do, it is by a 
groan or a sigh. These are solemn moments! The silence 
is so deep, and we are so alone with God, that w r e are 
afraid to speak. God, in his majesty, is before us ; eter- 
nity, in its solemnity is before us ; and were it not that we 
still see something of the Cross amidst the overwhelming 
scene, we feel that life or reason must fail under it. You 
remember these moments ; but you remember also that you 
did not think then that you were praying, far less that you 
were praying in the Spirit. You left your closet on those 
nights, ashamed and confounded that you could not pray. 
You felt yourself as far off from the mercy of God as you 
felt near to the majesty of God. One wish that often 
passed through your heart was, that the holy Spirit would 
help your infirmities, and enable you to pray. You had no 
idea that he was working in you mightily at the moment, 
and never more gracious to you. But, verily, God was 
with you then, as with Jacob on Bethel, although you 
" knew it not" at the time 

Does this view of the matter surprise you at all ? It 
ought not in the least : for, if you look back to those sea- 
sons of unutterable groanings, you will soon recollect that 
you never were more humble before God ; never more self- 
condemned, or self-emptied, than when your spirit was so 
pained within you that you could not speak. It was then, 
especially, that you saw and felt that God would be just 
even if he condemned you ; that you could say nothing 
against his law or his gospel, however their penal sane- 



OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 165 

tions might sink you ; that, you had deserved ail the curse, 
and none of the blessing of God. You felt through all 
your soul also, that you were entirely, and must be eter- 
nally, at the disposal of the divine will ; and that there 
was, indeed, nothing between you and perishing but the 
blood of Christ. You did not see at the time, how the 
atonement met all the difficulties in your case ; but you 
saw nothing else that met any of them. Every thing else, 
as a ground of hope, appeared to you a mere refuge of lies. 
The Lamb slain had all your attention ; and any hope you 
ventured to cherish sprung from his cross and character. 
You had not, indeed, much hope in him, and still less con- 
fidence, but you had none in any thing else. Now, what 
was all this, but the Spirit fulfilling in you the promise of 
Christ concerning his work : " He shall convince of sin, and 
of righteousness, and of judgment ?" The grand end of the 
Spirit's office is, " to glorify" the Saviour ; and the Saviour 
is never more glorified than when the soul is brought to 
look away, and flee away, from every thing to him. This 
is the Spirit's foundation-work in the soul, when he is about 
to dwell in the heart. 

Remember also the influence which those solemn sea- 
sons had upon your character and habits. How thought- 
ful, watchful, and steady you became, under the solemn 
consciousness that your eternal all was in jeopardy ! How 
it tamed your levity, and broke down your pride, to find 
that you could not pray, nor, of yourself, think a good 
thought ! You were never so little nor so low in your own 
esteem, as when you rose from your knees, unable to pray 
but in broken sighs and burning tears. Your character was 
never better than whilst you had to leave your closet, day 
after day, saying to yourself, — " Well, it must all rest on 
the will of God ; for I can do nothing but groan for mercy. 
If prayer could save me, I cannot pray. Lord, I am op- 
pressed, undertake for me." You did not think lightly of 
sin then, nor expose yourself to temptation. You took no 
liberties with the Sabbath then, and had no relish for world- 



166 PRAYER, PROOF OF THE WORK 

ly pleasures. The Bible was not the least-read book on 
your table then, nor its pages hastily read. A prayer-meeting 
was not a tame nor tedious service then, but a sweet help 
under your own difficulties in praying. Your spirit and 
deportment improved, too, under your humbling sense of 
your own weakness and un worthiness. You were meeker, 
gentler, and less-easily offended than formerly. You were 
afraid of anger, and of peevishness, and of all jangling, 
lest they should make all that was bad in the closet, worse. 
You had neither time nor inclination to fret yourself about 
the trifles which vex those who care little about their souls. 
In a word, many of the best parts of your character, and 
of your habits in life, were actually formed whilst you were 
hanging between hope and despair, and groaning in spirit 
before the Lord. 

I do not mean, of course, that your happier moments in 
prayer were less holy in their direct influence. Sweet 
communion with God in prayer is sure to have a sweet in- 
fluence upon our temper and habits, because we have then 
something worth taking care of, and too valuable to be sac- 
rificed for the sake of trifles. A man whose closet is 
really a Bethel, and whose heart is happy, in the conscious- 
ness of the divine presence, will do much and suffer much, 
rather than open the door of either to ill-humour, or useless 
pursuits. He knows, by experience, how easily the veil is 
drawn upon the mercy-seat, and how difficult it is to un- 
draw it again ; and, therefore, watches both his temper and 
his habits, that they may not get between him and the 
" face of the throne." Indeed, he can neither indulge ill 
habits nor ill humours whilst he maintains " fellowship with 
the Father, and with the Son." It is, therefore, no wonder 
that we refer to the help of the Holy Spirit those prayers 
chiefly which make us happiest, seeing they also make us 
holiest. Much, however, of their holy influence arises 
from the prior influence of " the groanings which cannot be 
uttered." They laid, or dug, the foundations of our reli- 
gious character ; and, but for these straits in prayer, we 



OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 167 

should either have not prized enlargement, or not improved 
it fully. 

I thus remind you of the humbling and sanctifying in- 
fluence of our speechless prayers, (which we did not think 
prayers at the time,) that you may see clearly their divine 
origin. They are the intercession of the Spirit, excited 
and sustained by Him, as the teacher and helper of the 
church. 



No. V. 

THE ACTUAL PRESENCE AND HELP OF THE 
SPIRIT IN PRAYER. 

Were we fully aware of the full meaning of our words, 
when we say that God is the Hearer of prayer, Christ the 
Intercessor for prayer, and the Holy Spirit the Helper in 
prayer, we could not pray without deep solemnity and real 
pleasure. The amazing fact that the sacred Trinity unite 
in equal attention to prayer, could not fail, if duly weighed 
and vividly realized, to awe and animate our souls, when- 
ever we knelt at the mercy-seat. But, alas ! though in 
one sense quite familiar with this sweet and sublime fact, 
it is not often that we pray under its sweet and solemn in- 
fluence. Accordingly, it is almost a new fact to us, both 
when we see it vividly presented by others, and when we 
ourselves enter into the spirit of it. Then, like Job, we 
resolve all our past impressions of God into " the hearing 
of the ear," and exclaim, " But now — mine eye seeth thee." 

It is, indeed, humiliating to acknowledge that our reali- 
zing views of Father, Son, and Spirit, being equally interested 
in prayer, should be so few and far between. It is, how- 
ever, only too true ; and it is necessary to acknowledge it 
to ourselves fully, that we may set upon ascertaining its 



168 THE ACTUAL PRESENCE AND HELP 

causes and cure. Many of its causes are, indeed, easily 
ascertained. We sometimes hurry into the presence of 
God, and even hurry over the duty of prayer. Instead of 
pausing to compose our spirits, or to collect our scattered 
thoughts by reading a portion of the Scriptures, we often 
enter at once upon the duty. In like manner, we do not in 
general expect to enjoy communion with God, nor to find 
much pleasure in our closets. We are even in danger of 
taking for granted, that intimate communion with God is 
not often to be obtained. We have heard it spoken of as 
a special privilege ; and thus we imagine that it must of 
course, be a rare thing. And when these misapprehensions 
and hurries are combined with any degree of a bad con- 
science towards God or man, it is no wonder that our real- 
izing views of the divine presence are both few and feeble. 
For how could they be otherwise, whilst we expect little, 
and prepare less ? Oh, it was not thus, it could not be thus, 
that the disciples entered their closets to pray, after the day 
of Pentecost ! When they knew fully that the Spirit would 
help their infirmities, and that their ascended Lord would 
intercede for them, and that their heavenly Father would 
hear and answer prayer, they could not have knelt without 
awe, nor pleaded without hope. It was impossible, whilst 
these glorious facts were before them, in all their freshness, 
that they could be formal or heartless in devotion : for, next 
to the open vision of the throne of grace in heaven, it is 
the vivid belief of the truth concerning that throne ; — it is, 
indeed, " the evidence of things not seen, and the substance 
of things hoped for." 

If you have not fully realized this, or if you find it diffi- 
cult to do so, there is, perhaps, nothing human could help 
you so much as a calm consideration of the case of the 
disciples, when they understood clearly the arrangements 
of heaven for hearing prayer. The disciples, although 
gradually introduced to an acquaintance with the nature of 
prayer, did not, like us, grow up familiar, from their youth, 
with all the facts of the subject. Some of the chief facts 



OF THE SPIRIT IN PRAYER. 169 

flashed out upon them suddenly and unexpectedly. They 
never dreamt of such a thing as the intercession of Christ, 
or the help of the Spirit in prayer, until the facts were re- 
vealed to them on the day of Pentecost. All this, as we 
know it, was entirely new to them. They were not, indeed, 
utter strangers, before, to the office, of the Father, Son, and 
Spirit, in relation to prayer. They were even well ac- 
quainted with the paternal character of God, and had heard 
much of the efficacy of the " Name" of Christ, in connexion 
with prayer. In like manner they were not entirely igno- 
rant of the work of the Holy Spirit : but knew as much of 
the whole subject as made them very prayerful. Their 
knowledge however, came far short of the amazing and 
magnificent, fact — that the enthroned Saviour ever lived to 
intercede for them ; and the eternal Spirit, to help their 
infirmities in prayer ! This was almost completely new to 
them, and must have given almost a new aspect to prayer 
itself. -Whatever they expected from the promises that 
Christ would remember them, and that the Spirit would help 
them, was far exceeded, and almost eclipsed, by the glory 
of that remembrance, and the grace of that help. They 
felt, if not said, when the promise was fulfilled, a the half 
was not told us /" 

You perceive that this is a fair statement of their case, 
so far. Imagine, then, with what solemnity and delight the 
disciples retired, for the first time, to pray, with these facts, 
in all the freshness of their glory, vividly before them. If 
their closets had been the gate of heaven before, how 
much more widely that gate was opened then ! Then 
they could see Jesus before the throne, presenting their 
prayers, embalmed with the incense of his actual interces- 
sion. Then they could calculate upon help from the Holy 
Spirit, not only in their public work, but also in their pri- 
vate warfare against sin and Satan. How they must have 
prayed the first night that all this was revealed to them ! 
With what looks they must have met, with what emphasis 
said, to each other, when they knew it — Jesus ever liveth 

vol. i. — 15 



170 THE ACTUAL PRESENCE AND HELP 

to intercede for us ! The Holy Spirit helpeth us to pray, 
as well as to preach ! 

I thus try to depict the whole scene that you may- easily 
realize it, and feel how impossible it is to pray coldly, 
whilst the intercession of Christ, and the help of the Spirit 
are clearly before the mind. You see, you feel, that the 
disciples never could have prayed before as they did that 
night. You feel that, had you been one of them, you must, 
like them, have been amazed and melted by the discovery 
of these facts. Well, the facts themselves, are the same. 
Their value does not depend upon a sudden discovery of 
them. You have come to the knowledge of them gradual- 
ly ; but you do know them, and can set yourself to realize 
them. You have, whilst reading these imperfect hints, 
shaken oft" something of your cold familiarity with them, 
and felt that, it is possible to shake off more of it. You 
have caught a glimpse of the right way of looking at the 
office of the Sun and Spirit, in the case of prayer. You 
are resolved to recollect this hint to-night, when you retire 
to kneel at the mercy-seat. 

It may be, however, that the very clearness with which 
you now see the amazing fact, that the Holy Spirit does 
help in prayer, makes you doubt whether you have ever 
experienced his help in prayer. You may feel afraid to 
refer your own earnest supplications to a source so high. 
It seems too good news to be' true, that the Eternal Spirit 
should have inclined our hearts to pray, and enabled us to 
pray according to the will of God ! It is really more diffi- 
cult to admit this to be true in our own case, than it was 
for " holy men of old" to believe their own inspiration. In 
speaking as the Spirit moved them, the movements of the 
Spirit were so sensible and extraordinary, that the prophets 
could not doubt the reality of their inspiration. But, in our 
case, the drawing and opening of the heart to pray, have been 
so gradual, and are so partial, that it seems presumption to 
ascribe such a slender effect to such a majestic cause. We 
know, and can never forget, how imperfect and impure our 



OF THE SPIRIT IN PRAYER. 171 

best prayers have been. As acts of our own understanding 
and conscience we are ashamed of them ; how then can 
we connect them with the operations of the Spirit of God ? 
We feel our prayers to be unworthy of the natural powers 
of our own spirit : how much more of the divine power of 
the Holy Spirit ! 

The man who has never felt this deeply, has never 
thought deeply upon the subject. Oh, it is no easy matter 
to say, " with the understanding," — the Eternal Spirit has 
helped my infirmities in prayer ! It is easy to talk and 
argue about the influences, operations, and outpourings of 
the Spirit ; but to say, as in the presence of God, I have 
felt them ; and know experimentally that the Holy Spirit has 
welcomed and helped me to pray : he must think twice before 
he speaks once, who speaks thus. You feel this ; and are, 
perhaps, becoming more afraid than ever to admit the amazing 
fact in your own case. You have been pleased and profit- 
ed by secret devotion ; and have thought at the time that 
surely the Spirit was helping your infirmities ; but, now 
that the solemn grandeur of that help is breaking out upon 
you, you dare hardly believe that ever you have been really 
a partaker of it ! Perhaps, some doubts of its reality, in 
any case, are forcing themselves upon your mind, and 
compelling you to ask — does the Holy Spirit help at all 
now in prayer ? 

Bringing the matter to this point may, indeed, agitate 
and unhinge you for a moment ; but it will do you no real 
harm. It will do you real good, by drawing you off from 
taking things for granted, to the better plan of proving all 
things. I want to give truth the force of truth upon your 
mind, that you " may know what you say, and whereof you 
affirm," whenever you speak of the office or operations of 
the Holy Spirit. For, if you are really staggered by these 
views of the matter, it is certain that you have never exam- 
ined the matter fully. If you think it at all doubtful, 
whether the Spirit still helps the infirmities of the prayer- 
ful, you have never looked steadfastly upon the facts of the 



172 THE ACTUAL PRESENCE AND HELP 

case. For what are the facts in regard to the continued 
help of the Spirit ? Why, one of them is that the denial 
of it involves the virtual overthrow of the whole gospel. 
The work of the Spirit, and the truth of the Word, stand or 
fall together. The men who have denied or derided the 
doctrine of the Spirit's influences, might just as well have 
denied that God hears prayer, or that Christ intercedes for 
the prayerful. For there is nothing implied in all the work 
of the Holy Spirit that is less credible, or less rational, or 
less likely, than what is implied in the work of the Fa- 
ther and the Son. If the Father can hear, the Spirit can 
help : if the Son can intercede, the Spirit can assist. Why, 
then, if I am not visionary when I say, " God will hear 
me," should I be called so, or think myself so, when I say, 
" the Spirit will help me ?" Even natural religion admits 
that the Father of our spirits has access to our spirits, and 
may influence them. Some Deists have even prayed to 
God for divine direction. Unless, therefore, I were to 
become an Atheist, or to deny that God can hear prayer, I 
cannot be visionary whilst believing that He who conde- 
scends to hear it, will condescend to help it. Thus tri- 
umphantly, you see, the help of the Spirit may be demon- 
strated. It is, indeed, wonderful that the Eternal Spirit 
should act upon our hearts, and draw out our desires after 
salvation and holiness : but not at all more wonderful than 
that the Father should listen to the expression of these 
desires, or that there is such a " great salvation" to pray 
for. It is just because the work of Christ is so valuable 
and glorious, that the work of the Spirit is so sure and con- 
stant. Thus there is no more reason to doubt whether the 
Spirit continues to help on earth, than whether the Father 
continues to hear, or the Son to intercede, in heaven. 

But if these hints establish your faith in the fact that the 
Spirit does help the prayerful, they increase, perhaps, your 
fears in your own case. Now that you see that the help 
is as rational as it is necessary, you hesitate whether to 
ascribe to the work of the Holy Spirit the workings of 



OY THE SPIRIT IN PRAYER. 173 

your own spirit in prayer. For although you have at times 
felt deeply, and wept sincerely, and cried fervently, and 
resolved solemnly, before the throne of grace, you now 
suspect that even all this hardly comes up to what is in- 
cluded in divine help. You imagine that if a " spirit of 
grace and supplication" had really been poured out upon 
you, you would have felt far more than all this. You can 
scarcely conceive how a day of such "small things" can 
be the fruit of so great a Spirit ! This is a trying dilemma. 
Your mind is alive to the truth and glory of help from on 
high ; but both the truth and glory of it make you afraid that 
you are not a partaker of it. You are unwilling to admit 
that you are an utter stranger to the influences of the Holy 
Spirit ; and yet, you are unable to say with certainty, that 
you are a subject of them. You wish to be so — have 
sought to be so — and have occasionally hoped that you were 
so ; but some of these hints have thrown you out of your usual 
track of thinking, and startled you so that you cannot yet 
recover yourself. It is, however, a good sign to be con- 
cerned about the work of the Spirit, and afraid of mistaking 
it ; "for they who are after the Spirit, mind the things of the 
Spirit ;" whereas they who are after the flesh, mind only 
the things of the flesh. Upon this scriptural fact, I have 
often been glad to take my stand, when, like you, 1 have 
felt utterly unable or afraid to answer the solemn question, 
" Have ye received the Holy Spirit V I durst not say yes ; 
and to say no, was intolerable. I could only say, " Thou 
who knowest ail things, knowest that I mind the things of 
the Spirit; that I am concerned and intent upon under- 
standing them, and praying to be a partaker of them." 
Now, you can truly say this ; and, therefore, do ; cling to 
this, until you are enabled to say more. 

Your great difficulty, now that you see the help of the 
Holy Spirit to be a reality, is, that nothing which you have 
experienced seems to come up to it. The Spirit is an Al- 
mighty Agent ; and you cannot think that his work in the 
heart could be so weak as it is in your heart., I recollect 
15* 



174 THE ACTUAL PRESENCE AND HELP 

being sorely oppressed by this difficulty, whilst walking in 
the fields one day alone. It was in summer, when the in- 
sects were sporting in the sun. It occurred to me, whilst 
gazing upon them, that each of these tiny insects was as 
much the work of Omnipotence as the mightiest angel ; 
that its almost inaudible hum could only have been called 
forth by the same Power which inspires the hymn of the 
archangel. I then saw in a moment that " small things," 
in the beginning of a work of grace, may be as really the 
work of the Spirit, as the gift of prophecy or miracles was 
so. It was a simple process of thought ; but it was very 
useful to me. And it is strictly just; for as nothing but 
Omnipotence could have created an insect or an atom, as 
well as an orb or an angel, nothing but the Holy Spirit could 
turn the heart to seek its happiness in the holy salvation of 
God : for this is utterly unnatural and abhorrent to man, and 
therefore the effect of divine grace, wherever and however 
it is produced. Reflection, and especially afflictions, may, 
indeed, work a very considerable change of character, and 
drive men to pray earnestly for a time : but they do not 
sweetly draw to prayer nor really endear it long. There is 
a mighty difference between the kind of help w T hich they, 
when alone, give in prayer, and that which the Holy Spirit 
gives. The prayers extorted by affliction are chiefly for 
deliverance from if, or support under it. When they regard, 
above all things, the sanctified use of it, there is a higher 
power than affliction operating on the mind. The Holy 
Spirit is helping mightily, when they regard a change of 
heart more than a change of condition — an interest in, and 
conformity to Christ, more than temporal deliverance, Oh, 
there is no better proof of " having the Spirit," than that 
we would rather suffer than sin ; rather be the prisoners 
of Providence than the votaries of vice or the world ! 

All this might have been stated at once, and thus you 
would have escaped whatever agitation the former class of 
remarks occasioned. If, however, you are beginning tore- 
cover your composure, you will soon stand higher and firm- 



OF THE SPIRIT IN PRAYER. • 175 

er than ever you did, upon " the ministration of the Spir- 
it." My object was to bring the question of " having the 
Spirit," to an issue ; for whilst it is taken for granted, or 
left unsettled, it is impossible to " walk or pray in the Spir- 
it." Many leave it in suspense from year to year, and are 
thus all their life long subject to the bondage of uncertainty. 
They cannot come to a conclusion upon their own state by 
a hasty glance ; and they do not go fully into the question. 
They are afraid to decide, and unwilling to examine. They 
mean well, but they think little. They are sincere, but they 
are also superficial. The consequence is they seldom 
know what to think of their own case. Now, how much 
better, and in fact easier, it is to go thoroughly into the 
subject, until we ascertain whether or not we are partakers 
of the Spirit ! One thorough examination of the question 
would save you from a thousand embarrassments in after- 
life. 



No. VI. 

WALKING IN "THE LIGH T," ESSENTIAL TO 
FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 

Entire and eternal " fellowship" with God and the 
Lamb is the perfection of the bliss of heaven. The fellow- 
ship of the saints with all the " innumerable company of 
angels," must be delightful ; and the fellowship of the 
saints with each other still more pleasing, because more 
natural : but the fellowship of both with God must exceed, in- 
finitely, all the other social enjoyments of heaven. To see 
him as he is, to hear him speak, to speak with God face to face 
as a man doth with his friend, must be joy " full of glory." 
And then — this communion with God will be eternal and 
universal in beaven. All will enjoy it equally, both as to 
degree and duration. Oh, no wonder that all must be holy 



176 ON FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 

in order to share such fellowship with God ! An unholy 
spirit could not enjoy it even if admitted into it. What 
God shows and says of himself from the throne, to pure 
spirits, could only mortify and confound impure spirits. 
Every look of unveiled Godhead would wither their hearts, 
and every word sting their consciences, just in proportion 
as the looks were lovely and the words kind ; because the 
unholy would feel through all their soul that these smiles 
and assurances were not meant for them. Thus heaven 
itself would be a hell to beings who loved sin and disliked 
holiness. 

Now, as perfect holiness is essential to fellowship with 
God in heaven, so the love and pursuit of holiness are es- 
sential to fellowship with him on earth " If I regard in- 
iquity in my heart," said David, " the Lord will not hear 
me." — " If we say that we have fellowship with him," said 
John, " and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth." 
"Walking with God, and walking in darkness, (that is, in 
secret or in open sin,) are utterly incompatible. They 
never were combined, and never can be. The appearance 
and pretence of devotional communion with God, may be 
combined with bad habits, so as to deceive the world, and 
the church too ; but the prete?ider himself is no more de- 
ceived by his own dexterity than God is. He cannot lie 
to himself, however he may impose on others, or elude de- 
tection. The father of lies cannot lie to himself : much 
less can his most expert children dupe their own conscien- 
ces completely or through life. 

It is supposed, I am aware, that the self-deception of 
the heart is so very great that even a sensualist may flat- 
ter himself with the hope of salvation and bring himself 
to believe that sin cannot harm him. But, although some 
men have said so, and, no doubt, thought so in their own 
case, for a time, it remains yet to be proved that any 
man has died under this delusion, or even lived very long 
tinder it. Men of this stamp do not pass through life 
without checks. Reverses of some kind overtake them 



ON FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 177 

sooner or later ; and when ' the mighty hand of God" is 
upon them, its pressure soon undeceives themselves, even 
if they continue to deceive others. These remarks apply, 
of course, only to those who profess themselves to be the 
people of God, notwithstanding their vices. Men utter- 
ly ignorant, of the doctrines of grace, or indifferent about 
religion, may both live and die flattering themselves with 
the hope of safety : but flaming professors, who are vicious, 
cannot carry their false security into the valley of the 
shadow of death. The first sweep of the swellings of Jor- 
dan wreck their peace. 

Gross vice is not, however, the only " darkness" in 
which no fellowship with God can be obtained. Any al- 
lowed sin will interrupt it, and any evil habit prevent it. 
Fellowship with God is not understood where this is not 
believed and felt. If, indeed, fellowship with God meant 
no more than freedom or fervour in prayer, there might be 
something of ihis felt at times, even by very inconsistent 
professors ; for they are overcome occasionally both. by fear 
and hope, and thus ^drawn into something very like the 
spirit of real devotion. But, however they or others may 
call these meltings of the heart, communion with God, they 
are not so. Even the delight they feel in prayer at such 
times is not so. Even when the prayers of such men are 
both sincere and fervent, they are not fellowship with 
God. 

There are many popular mistakes upon this subject, 
which require to be cleared up, for the sake of consistent, 
as well as of inconsistent, professors. The general opin- 
ion of both seems to be — that communion with God con 
sists chiefly in enjoyment at the sacrament, and durino- se- 
cret prayer. And by enjoyment they mean sweet thoughts 
and tender feelings, arising from clear views of the love of 
God, and of the glory of the Saviour. When these things 
touch their heart, so as to melt them, they rejoice in hav- 
ing fellowship with God. But when they do not feel thus, 
they say that they have had no communion with him. 



178 ON FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 

Now, in the case of a consistent follower of the Saviour, 
the first conclusion is quite true ; his delight at the sacra- 
ment and in the closet is real fellowship with God and the 
Lamb. But his second conclusion may be quite untrue. 
The want of such enjoyment is not necessarily the want 
of fellowship with God, or with the Saviour. It may even 
be a higher and holier degree of it than what we call en- 
joyment is. Oh, yes ! when the soul is sunk in the dust 
of humility and self-abasement, and filled to overflowing 
with grief, and shame, and hatred, and loathing of sin : and 
so absorbed in feeling the necessity and desirableness of 
holiness, that it can think of nothing else at the time — then 
there is more real fellowship with God and the Lamb, than 
when the soul can hardly contain its joys : for this deep 
hatred of sin, and this deep love of holiness, are more in 
harmony with the mind of God than any raptures are. For 
what is fellowship with God, but fellow principles and feel- 
ings to his own ? 

Such being the sober facts of the case, it is self-evident 
that whatever an inconsistent professor enjoys at the sacra- 
ment, or in secret prayer, it is not fellowship with God and 
the Lamb. They hate sin. It is " the abominable thing" 
which their " soul hateth." Whoever, therefore, loves sin, 
so as to " walk" in it, is at open variance with God, instead 
of having fellowship with him ; and at variance with God 
on a point which God never will yield nor alter. He will 
bear with weaknesses, and overlook infirmities, and even 
forgive, in answer to prayer, the sins of those who hate sin, 
and are conscientiously trying to follow holiness ; but with 
the man who loves sin, and lives in it, God will hold no 
fellowship. " What fellowship hath Christ with Belial?" 
None. And it is equally true that Belial (a wicked man) 
hath none with Christ, whatever he may think or pretend." 

These hints prove that there are serious mistakes prevail 
upon this subject. Inconsistent professors call that fel- 
lowship with God, which wants the very first and funda- 
mental principle of all communion with him. That princi- 



ON FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 179 

pie is — love to what God loves most — Holiness ; and 
hatred to what God hates most — Sin Where this principle 
is not in the heart, there is not, there cannot be. any fel- 
lowship with God. There may be fits of prayer without it, 
and flashes of enjoyment without it, and occasional meltings 
of heart without it ; but no fellowship. It is essential, in 
order to that, that we have some measure of fellow feeling 
with God on the point where he feels most. Were this well 
understood, and habitually remembered, by those who com- 
bine a profession of religion with loved and allowed sin, 
they would soon become as much afraid of what they call 
their " sweet seasons" of enjoyment, as they are now of 
being detected in their secret sins. For, nothing is more 
ominous or alarming than a state of mind which can set off 
fits of devotion against habits of sensuality, intemperance, 
lying, or dishonesty. The man who can salve up the wounds 
of his conscience, under such habits, is really searing his 
conscience, with the hottest " iron" that Satan heats. " If 
we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk in 
darkness, we lie." 

" But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have 
mutual fellowship with him.'''' Walking in the light is both 
the rule and the condition of communion with God. It is 
itself practical fellowship with God, and leads to that devo- 
tional fellowship which consists in the sensible enjoyment 
of the divine presence. 

But, it may be said, " walking in the light as God is in the 
light," seems to be impossible : " God is light, and in him 
is no darkness at all !-" how, then, can any one walk in the 
light as he is in the light ? This objection is not so for- 
midable as it appears at first sight. The apostle's object is, 
not to demand perfection, but to establish a perfect rule of 
conduct. The angels cannot walk in the light, to all the 
extent which God is in the light ; but they act upon his prin- 
ciples, copy his example, and cultivate his spirit. They 
adopt no lower, nor any other, standard of holiness. Now, 
although we cannot equal angels in walking in the light, 



180 ON FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 

we can, like them, make God our example ; and although 
we cannot come up to that example, we can avoid coming 
down to an inferior one. Perfection is, indeed, impossible 
in this world : but it is not impossible to make use of a 
perfect model or rule of conduct. Let us, therefore, con- 
sider how God is " in the light." 

Now, in him, there is none of the darkness of insincerity. 
God never says one thing, and means another ; never pro- 
fesses friendship, when he feels none ; never employs fraud 
or flattery" to gain his ends. All this, however, is common 
in the world ; and, because it is common, God puts himself 
forward as the authoritative example of sincerity to all who 
desire fellowship with him. He will not allow us to make 
any man, nor any angel, the standard of our sincerity ; but 
insists upon it, that we look to himself as our model. Now, 
this is not impossible. It is, in fact, the easiest of all the 
rules of speaking or acting, to set the Lord before us. The 
moment we realize to ourselves his sincerity, we see, at a 
glance, how he would speak and act ; and thus see how we 
ought to conduct, the business and intercourse of life. No 
man can be at a loss what to say, in any given case, if he 
is determined to be sincere as God is sincere. This rule 
would put an end to all shuffling, equivocating, and colouring, 
as well as to all lying and pretence. This virtue of godlike 
sincerity or integrity would also be its own reward, even 
if it had no connexion with the promise of the divine pres- 
ence. Sterling and uniform uprightness, in word and deed, 
commands or wins the homage of all men ; and, what is 
infinitely better, it secures, to a believer, joy and peace in 
believing. The God of truth marks his approbation of all 
who walk in the light of truth, by lifting upon them the light 
of his own countenance. He " manifests" himself to them, 
in a way that he " does not" to the insincere and the half- 
honest. The fact is, God regulates his fellowship with his 
professed friends, by the same general principle on which 
we regulate our own fellowship with our acquaintances. 
We avoid, as much as possible, all intimacy with the double- 



ON FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 181 

minded, and the tricky, and the false-tongued. We make 
them feel, by our manner, that we cannot rely on them, nor 
act with them. They sit upon thorns whilst in our company. 
And whatever be their profession of religion, such persons 
find a similar reception from God, both at the sacrament 
and in the closet. There, too, they sit or kneel upon thorns. 
Again ; in God there is none of the darkness of pride. 
He is majestic, but condescending also. All his dignity is 
as amiable as it is exalted. He is not a respecter of per- 
sons, nor ashamed to own the poorest sheep or lamb of the 
good shepherd's flock. He readily and equally holds fel- 
lowship with all his people of equal character, however un- 
equal may be their rank in life, or their range of talent. 
Now, it is not impossible for believers to imitate God in his 
condescension and impartiality. We may walk in the light 
of humility, as he does in the light of condescension. It 
is necessary to do so, if we would obtain fellowship with 
God in our closets, or at the sacrament ; for He will not 
countenance any believer who is ashamed to own, as breth- 
ren, the poorest of the flock: but as sure as he declines 
fellowship with them, he loses fellowship with God. " The 
first" in rank in a church, is always " the last" in devo- 
tional enjoyment, whenever he is a consequential man. 
God keeps just as far off from him, as he himself keeps 
far off from his brethren. Such a man is as seldom upon 
the mount of communion, as he is seldom in the company 
of the church. His distance, and airs, and self-importance, 
are thus their own punishment. They may not, indeed, 
draw down upon himself the contempt of his brethren : 
they may bear his high hand, and brook his haughty spirit ; 
but God will do neither. The proud are an abomination to 
the Lord, and he beholdeth them afar off; and, although 
he does not always punish them in their person or proper- 
ty, he invariably withdraws and withholds from them the 
sense of his gracious presence. None are so much neg- 
lected by God as those who neglect the people of God. 
There is no light in the countenance of God for the man 
vol. i. — 16 



182 ON FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 

who darkens his own countenance when he looks upon 
"men of low estate" in the church. But, on the other 
hand, when pious men, of rank or wealth, are humble, affa- 
ble, and impartial; and when they employ their influence to 
promote the welfare of the church, none are more honoured 
by God, either at the sacrament or in the closet. They 
are, emphatically, the men " whom the King delighteth to 
honour." 

Again : in God there is none of the darkness of impru- 
dence. He does not speak rashly, nor act without delibera- 
tion. He promises nothing but what he can perform, and 
engages in nothing which can involve his character in the 
least. And here, also, he is the example to them that fear 
him. We cannot indeed imitate the wisdom of God so as 
to become infallible in our judgment, and unerring in our 
management ; but we can think before we speak ; we can 
deliberate before we decide ; we can stand aloof from haz- 
ardous and questionable undertakings ; we can avoid giving 
pledges which we are not likely to redeem; we can keep 
clear of those habits which weaken the understanding and 
pervert the conscience. Oh, were all the professed fol- 
lowers of Christ doing all that they could do, in guiding 
themselves and their affairs " with discretion," how much 
more fellowship with God many of them might enjoy! 
But, if a man contract debts beyond his means of payment, 
or launch out in business upon mere credit without capital ; 
or involve himself and his friends by rash speculation ; or 
give in to the sottish system of transacting business at 
taverns ; or so entangle himself with pledges as to be for 
ever at his " wit's end" for new shifts and excuses— that 
man cannot have communion with God, either in the sanc- 
tuary or the closet. His closet, indeed, will seldom see 
him. And if he continue to visit the sanctuary, and pre- 
tend to be comforted there, whilst persisting in this course, 
his case is ominous indeed ! Comfort ! There is no com- 
fort in the gospel for the dishonest or the drunken, but the 
comfort that arises from the fact — that the blood of Christ 



ON FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD. 183 

can cleanse from all sin, and grace teach them to " live 
soberly and honestly" in the world. Any comfort which 
does not stop crime is a curse. But, on the other hand, 
the man who brings both the gospel and the law to bear 
upon all his affairs, to regulate his expenditures, to form his 
promises, to moderate his desires, to bind his soul to the 
example of his Saviour — that man will not pray without 
comfort, nor communicate without enjoyment. Others may 
pretend, but he will " truly" say, my " fellowship is with 
the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ." 

Again : in God there is none of the darkness of passion. 
He is "slow to anger," and never angry without a just 
cause. It is not mistakes or trifles that he takes offence 
at. And even when He is justly angry, He does not aban- 
don the offender at once. Thus God is "In the light;" 
and in all this He is our example. " Walking in the light 
as he is in the light," in this respect, is essential to fellow- 
ship with him ; for the God of love will not countenance 
an angry man. Such is His aversion to all strife between 
brethren, that He commands the offender to leave the altar 
and his gift too, until he is reconciled to his brother. He 
even suspends forgiveness upon forgiving. But even if this 
were not the case, nor God to hide his countenance from 
the angry, anger itself would disable us from seeing the 
face of God. It is physically, as well as morally, impos- 
sible to pr;iy in a passion. 

Well might Jeremy Taylor say: "Prayer is the daughter 
of charity, and the sister of meekness ; and he that prays 
to God in an angry spirit, is like him who retires into a battle 
to meditate, and sets up his closet in the out-quarters of an 
enemy, and chooses a frontier garrison to be wise in. An- 
ger is a perfect alienation of the mind from prayer ; and 
therefore is contrary to that attention which presents our 
prayers in a right line to Heaven. For so have I seen a 
lark rising from his bed of grass, and soaring upward, 
singing as he rises, and hopes to get to heaven, and climb 
above the clouds. But the poor bird was beaten back by 



184 A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT ESSENTIAL TO 

the loud sighings of an eastern wind, and his motion made 
irregular and inconstant ; descending more, at every breath 
of the tempest, than he could recover by the liberation and 
frequent weighing of his wings ; till the little creature was 
forced to sit down and pant, and stay till the storm was 
over ; and then — it made a prosperous flight, and it did rise 
and sing as if it had learned music and motion from an 
angel, as he passed sometimes through the air, about his 
ministries here below. 

" So is the prayer of a good man, when anger raises a 
tempest and overcomes him. Then his prayer was broken, 
and his thoughts were troubled, and his words went np to- 
wards a cloud ; and his thoughts pulled them back again, 
and made them without intention. And the good man sighs 
for his infirmity ; but must be content to lose the prayer ; 
and he must recover it when his anger is removed, and his 
spirit is becalmed, and made even as the brow of Jesus, and 
smooth like the heart of God ; and then it ascends to heav- 
en upon the wings of the holy dove, and dwells with God, 
till it returns like the useful bee, laden with a blessing and 
the dew of heaven." 



No. VII. 

A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT ESSENTIAL TO THE 
ENJOYMENT OF THE PROMISES. 

Nothing is more obvious than that eternal things are 
not seen in their true light, by the generality of mankind. 
Men could not act as they do, if they saw eternal realities 
in the light of revelation. Accordingly, whenever any 
great truth shines out upon them with unusual clearness, 
they change, or resolve to change, their line of conduct. 
They can neither act nor feel as usual, while that truth 



THE ENJOYMENT OF THE PROMISES. 185 

is before them in its brightness and solemnity. It is master, 
whilst it can keep on the meridian of their minds. It is, 
therefore, self-evident, that if all the great truths of the 
gospel were vividly and habitually before their minds, a 
change of conduct and feeling would be the inevitable ef- 
feet. No man could go on in sin or sloth, who saw, as in 
sunlight, the fatal and eternal consequences of neglecting 
the great salvation. No man could "halt between two 
opinions," who saw the two words, Heaven and Hell, as 
God has exhibited them in his own word. They are not 
seen in His " light," by any one who trifles with them. It 
is the light of custom — of convenience — of passion, that 
is upon eternal things, whenever they are unfelt or unin- 
fluential. The indifference which some manifest, and the in- 
decision which marks others, are therefore, the exact meas- 
ure of their spiritual blindness. They may not be ignorant, 
but what they know they have not weighed nor searched 
out for themselves. Their knowledge has been forced up- 
on them by circumstances, or picked up by accident and 
at second-hand. It is not the fruit of searching the Scrip- 
tures, nor of serious consideration, nor of secret prayer. 
They have just light enough to render their indifference 
and indecision highly criminal, and utterly inexcusable ; 
but not light enough to terminate them, nor even to keep 
them from growing worse. For it is quite possible for an 
undecided man to become insensible, and for a heedless man 
to become reckless, whilst he only sees the truth of God 
in the light of the world. In that light it has little 
authority, and less glory. It has not the force of truth upon 
the heart or the character. Accordingly, whilst men con- 
tent themselves with holding the truth in the vague and 
general forms in which it is afloat in the world, and merely 
fall in with public opinion, instead of forming their own 
opinions from the word of God, they may remain heedless 
and heartless, for any length of time. The word of irself 
must be used as the word of God, before it can prove the 
power of God unto salvation. 

6* 



186 A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT ESSENTIAL TO 

It is, therefore, no wonder that so many, who seem to 
know so much about the soul and eternity, should yet trifle 
with both. For what is there in their knowledge to pre- 
vent trifling ? It relates, indeed, to grand and solemn 
truths ; but not to these truths as they stand in the Bible, 
nor as they flow from the lips of Jehovah, but as they float, 
in public opinion. And when thus separated from God 
himself, and from his " lively oracles," they cannot make 
men wise unto salvation. 

If these hints explain, in any measure, the carelessness 
and indecision of the multitude, they will also explain many 
of the relapses of the serious. Truth tias not always the 
force of truth upon them. They revere it, and love it, and 
wish to remain under its influence. And at times it is 
sweeter to their taste than honey, or the honeycomb. But, 
somehow, they often lose their relish for it. Even their 
knowledge, as well as their enjoyment, of the glorious gospel, 
fades away insensibly from time to time. They lose both 
the sight and the sense of truths which have made their 
hearts sing for joy, even in the day of adversity. 

Now, all this surprises as well as grieves them. They 
cannot always account for it. It seems so strange, as well 
as melancholy, that truths which had been often before the 
mind in light and loveliness, in power and glory, should 
ever disappear or become dim ! If they had not been loved 
whilst they shone in beauty, or not improved whilst they 
captivated the heart, their eclipse would explain itself. But 
they have become dark and distant, even when we were 
not conscious of misimproving them. They have vanished 
away, even whilst we were fondly calculating that we could 
never again forget, or misunderstand them. 

All this, however, is not so strange as it is lamentable. 
It arises, in many instances, from ceasing to " search the 
Scriptures" as we did, whilst we were absorbed with the 
question, " What shall I do to be saved ?" When we can 
answer this question to our own satisfaction, we are prone 
to relax in our attention to the word of God, Having dis- 



THE ENJOYMENT OF THE PROMISES. 187 

covered our way and welcome to the cross, we do not feel 
the same necessity for continuing our inquiries. And the 
whole matter seems so plain, and so pleasing, that we take 
for granted that we can never lose sight of it. Thus we 
come to put our clear views in the room of the Scriptures, 
and begin to draw upon them, instead of continuing to " draw 
water from the wells of salvation.'' The consequence is, 
that our clearest views of the gospel soon become indistinct. 
Hence the necessity of habitual attention to the word of 
God, however clear or copious our knowledge of it may be. 
We never can safely dispense with it, whatever be our ex- 
perience or progress in the divine life. It must be " the 
light of our feet," until they stand on the sea of glass before 
the throne. 

It is not, however, a formal use of the Scriptures that will 
maintain, in brightness and power, those views of divine 
truth which were acquired by a devotional use of the Scrip- 
tures. We are blending much fervent prayer with our fre- 
quent reading of them, when we first discovered the way of 
salvation for ourselves. We pondered and prayed over the 
word of God at the same time. Like David, we were upon 
our knees when we said, " In thy light shall we see light." 
We both recognised and realized the presence of God with 
his own oracles ; and with something of the solemnity, and 
much of the sincerity of the high-priest, when he went 
within the veil, we opened our Bibles, saying, " I will hear 
what God the Lord will speak. '* In a word, our searching 
the Scriptures was truly a devotional exercise, when we 
obtained the view of the gospel which relieved our con- 
sciences, and calmed our spirits. 

This experimental fact demands and deserves the utmost 
attention. Remember! You were not only thoughtful and 
watchful, but prayerful also, when the great salvation opened 
upon your mind, in its own native glory and simplicity. 
Whether the discovery was made by you in the sanctuary 
or in the closet, it was intimately connected with prayer. 
And however clearly it shone in the sanctuary, it shone still 



188 A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT ESSENTIAL TO 

clearer when you retired to pray over it. You saw and felt 
then, that this " marvellous light" was both the answer and 
the effect of prayer. 

Such being the real facts of the case, it is self-evident 
that any decline of prayerful attention to the word of God 
must dim the clearness, and diminish the sweetness, of all 
those principles and promises which you first discovered, 
when in a truly devotional spirit. The decay of that spirit 
must darken them. They were first seen when you were 
living very " near" to God ; and, therefore, all receding from 
that nearness must involve a proportionate losing sight of 
them. In a word, whatever we saw and enjoyed in the 
gospel, whilst we were very prayerful, can only be kept sight 
of, so as to be enjoyed, by continuing prayerful. 

This general principle is of universal application. It 
applies particularly to the enjoyment of that " good hope 
through grace," justification by faith alone. This is a 
truth which the prayerless cannot enjoy, however well they 
may understand it. Very few of them do understand it at 
all, or even notice it. As a peculiarity of the gospel, how- 
ever, it is understood by some of the praj^erless. They can 
argue about it, and prove it from Scripture, and point out 
the preachers and writers who garble or encumber the doc- 
trine. Some of this class have neither mercy nor patience 
for any man who seems to see less clearly than themselves, 
that believing is faith, and that faith justifies the soul. They 
can demonstrate all this — to his confusion, and to his con- 
demnation too ! To hear them declaiming and denouncing 
thus, one would imagine that they enjoyed the doctrine, as 
much as they understood it. This, however, is not the case. 
Accordingly, the moment they are brought to the point by 
the pointed question — " Are you justified by your belief of 
the truth . ? " — they dare not say that they are. The con- 
sciousness of being prayerless, and averse to secret prayer, 
shuts their lips at once. They may continue to argue the 
general principle, and even go on to show that its truth is 
in nowise affected by their uncertainty; but beyond this 



THE ENJOYMENT OF THE PROMISES. 189 

they cannot proceed. They see clearly that believers are 
justified by believing ; but they see as clearly, that it is not 
safe to reckon their own prayerless belief, faith. 

Now, what the prayerless cannot enjoy, the serious dare 
not enjoy when they cease to be prayerful. The conclu- 
sion, " I believe on the Saviour, and therefore am justified 
for his sake," cannot be drawn so as to be satisfactory to 
the mind, when the heart is not right with God in the closet. 
It may, indeed, be drawn, as a logical syllogism ; but it will 
only have the effect of dry logic. It will not heal the 
wounds, nor hush the fears of the conscience, whilst con- 
science must confess to itself, that secret devotion is neg- 
lected or hurried over. Indeed, in such a state of mind, 
justification by faith alone will appear at times, a doubtful 
doctrine, or faith will be supposed to mean much more than 
the cordial belief of the gospel ; and thus the man to whom 
the whole matter was equally plain, pleasing, and valid, 
whilst he was devotional in his spirit and habits, may come 
to doubt and distrust the whole matter ; or at least to be un- 
able to derive any comfort from it. For when the heart is 
estranged from God, or sunk into cold formality in prayer, 
salvation by faith will appear just as difficult as salvation by 
works. 

These difficulties are, I am aware, felt at times by many 
of the prayerful. But in general those who feel them most 
have never clearly understood the doctrine of justification 
by faith, nor perceived that prayer is the best expression of 
faith. They have either heard a misty gospel, or misunder- 
stood the preacher, and thus have always been at a loss on 
the subject. But their difficulties would be removed at once 
if the matter were fully explained to them ; because, to their 
devotional spirit, it would commend itself as the truth of 
God. Whereas, in the case of those who once understood 
and enjoyed the doctrine, but have lost the spirit of prayer, 
no explanation of it will remove their difficulties, unless, at 
the same time, it restore that spirit. The sober fact is, that 
the loss of a devotional spirits operates, in reference to the 



190 A DEVOTIONAL SPIRIT ESSENTIAL TO 

gospel, just as the loss of a mental faculty does in reference 
to the affairs of life. Whilst the alienation lasts, the judg- 
ments of the mind are not sound nor consistent ; things do 
not appear in their true light, or are not applied to their right 
purpose. In the same way, therefore, that a sane mind is 
essential for the wise management of human affairs, so is a 
devotional spirit to the enjoyment of divine truth. Indeed, 
a dislike of prayer is a species of moral insanity. He is 
not " in his right mind" towards God or towards himself, 
who has not begun to pray ; nor is he who has ceased to 
pray fervently. Accordingly, the first thing which the 
Spirit of God does, both in converting a sinner, and resto- 
ring a backslider, is to bring them to their knees in secret, 
to seek God with all their heart. 

The general principle of these hints is equally applicable 
to the enjoyment of the spirit of adoption. The witness of 
the Holy Spirit with our spirit, that we are the children of 
God, will not survive the death of prayer. The spirit of 
adoption is essentially and invariably devotional. It " cries 
—Abba, Father." 

Accordingly when this filial cry ceases in the closet, the 
sense of sonship is soon gone from the heart. No wonder? 
For if it be often difficult, and sometimes almost impossible, 
even when we are most prayerful, to cherish the hope that 
we are the children of God, it must be felt to be sheer pre- 
sumption to do so, when the heart is estranged from prayer. 

I do not mean, of course, that sonship is disannulled or 
disproved by a decay of devotional feeling and habits : but 
I do not mean — that such a decay is, whilst it lasts, fatal 
to the conscious enjoyment of sonship. The logic of the 
doctrine will not keep up the hope of the fact. It is per- 
fectly true that whoever is a believer, is fully warranted to 
consider himself a child of God : and it is equally true, 
that relapses in devotion do not prove a man to be an abso- 
lute unbeliever : but neither fact will meet our case whilst 
we are undevotional : because, in that state we are not be- 
lieving with the heart. Faith is not dead when the spirit 



THE ENJOYMENT OF THE PROMISES. 191 

of prayer is lost : but it is in such a fai?it, when it ceases 
to breathe prayer, that neither reason nor conscience dare 
venture to argue, from its bare existence, that we are " the 
sons and daughters of the Lord God Almighty." We may 
not, indeed, give up all hope of sonship, even when things 
are at this low ebb in our closet. The mind will look, and 
the heart, will linger over the fact, that it is " by faiih," son- 
ship is obtained. And we may also cling to the weak vesti- 
ges of our former believing, as evidences of having " the 
root of the matter'' within us still. And we may try to 
draw the conclusion, that all is safe although much be far 
wrong. But this will not do! It does not satisfy ihe heart, 
however it may blunt the stings of conscience. Our com- 
mon sense frowns upon the paltry stratagem of proving our 
safety by a logical quibble, whilst the great body of our 
feelings are in a bad state ! The sad difference between 
these desperate graspings at indirect means of comfort, and 
our former calm hold of the cross, whilst we were prayer- 
ful, alarms and shames us. We had then no temptation, be- 
cause no occasion, to have recourse to a reckless logic, which 
tries to circumvent or evade God, by holding him to the let- 
ter of some promise, the spirit and design of which we 
disregard. Oh, nothing is so pitiable an expedient as this! 
It is contemptible and impious, when the heart is estranged 
from God, and averse to prayer, to clutch at, and cling to, 
some subterfuge which, like a flaw in an indictment, is a 
mere evasion. And yet this is, alas! the use which many make 
of some of the doctrines of grace. But how much better 
and easier is it to set the whole matter right, by a prompt 
and penitential return to the throne of grace ! Half the 
thought usually spent in juggling the conscience would suf- 
fice to bring and bind it over to its old habits of watchful- 
ness and prayer. And these will maintain the spirit of 
adoption wherever the doctrine of adoption is understood. 
The substance of that doctrine is, that whoever has wel- 
comed the Saviour to his heart for holy purposes, is both 
warranted and welcome to reckon himself a child of God. 



192 ENJOYMENT OF THE PROMISES. 

It is his duty as well as his privilege, to believe his own 
sonship. And the witness of the Holy Spirit with his spir- 
it, that he is born of God, is, amongst other things, a wit- 
ness to the truth of this revealed fact. 

The general principle of these hints applies equally to 
the enjoyment of the doctrine of the final perseverance 
of believers. Now, that men concerned about the eternal 
salvation of their souls, should cling with a tenacious grasp 
to a doctrine which makes salvation sure, is only what 
might be expected. There is so much treachery in the 
heart, so many snares in the world, and such depths and 
wiles in the temptations of Satan, that I cannot, for my own 
part, understand the conduct of those who deny the doctrine 
of final perseverance. Many of them are too holy and too 
humble to think seriously that they can " endure to the end" 
by their own strength. They manifest in their prayers 
that they feel themselves dependant upon Him who " began 
the good work," for the on- carrying of it from day to day. 
And if they do, indeed, calculate, with any certainty, on 
being kept by the day from falling, they might just as well 
calculate by the year or for life : for they are only subdi- 
viding the promise in appearance, without subverting the 
principle in reality. But whether for the day, the year, or 
for life, the calculation, if made to any purpose, must be 
made in a devotional spirit. As in the former cases the 
dry logic of the doctrine will not maintain the hope of the 
promise. It cannot do so in any sober mind : for the 
promise is, that He who began the good work will carry it 
on : — of course, therefore, carry it on in its goodness. It is 
not, therefore, that work which is going on, when a devo- 
tional spirit is going off. 



PREPARATION FOR THE SANCTUARY. 193 

No. VIII. 
DEVOTIONAL PREPARATION FOR THE SANCTUARY. 

If the house of God be, indeed, " the gate of heaven" it 
demands and deserves from us far more than regular, or 
even reverential, attendance. We ought to prepare for it, 
as well as to repair to it. We ought to be " in the Spirit," 
as well as in our place, on the Lord's day ; for the house 
of God is the gate of heaven, only to the "spiritually mind- 
ed." It is not such a gate of heaven as that which John 
saw in Patmos — so wide and so open that he had only to 
look, in order to behold the throne of God and the man- 
sions of glory. It is rather such a gate as the types were 
to the Saviour before his coming, or as the prophecies are 
to futurity ; solemn, but shadowy ; direct, but dim : so that 
if our minds be not spiritual when we enter it, we shall see 
but little, and enjoy less, of the heaven to which it leads. 

Accordingly, we have found, when we have come into 
the house of God altogether unprepared, that it was any 
thins; but the gate of heaven to our souls. It has been the 
gate of sleep or the gate of weariness to us when we have 
entered it prayerless ; and we have felt it to be almost the 
gate of hell when all its ordinances poured fire into our con- 
sciences, and fear into our hearts. And this they have 
done, when our utter want of relish, for them has forced 
upon us the awful suspicion that we were surely hardening 
under the gospel. 

These are melancholy and humiliating confessions. 
They ought, however, to be thus publicly made, that we 
may be shamed out of those habits which bring on such 
states of mind; and that we may see and fe^l the necessity 
of due preparation for the house of God. For it may be to 
us the gate of heaven if we come to it in a ri'ght spirit and 
with proper motives. Now we have much need that it 
should be so to us. For if the house of God do not fix 

vol. i. — 17 



194 DEVOTIONAL PREPARATION 

our minds on eternal things, no other house is likely to 
bring us under the powers of the world to come. The hous® 
of mourning, by its gloom and by its silence, renders us sol- 
emn and thoughtful whilst we are in it ; but its deep influ- 
ence is not lasting : it lessens every day after the funeral, 
and soon subsides entirely. And in the world, although 
there are events for ever occurring which ought to burn 
in upon our souls the conviction that "this is not our 
rest" — this, alas, is not the lesson we learn from them! 
This world, with all its cares and crosses, does not, by its 
own influence, throw our thoughts direct or often upon the 
world to come. Even when we ourselves are the sufferers, 
such is the tendency of our minds, that we are inclined to 
turn our trials into excuses for the neglect of the great sal- 
vation ; — so that unless the house of God furnish an antidote 
to these plagues of our hearts, they are sure to ruin us. We 
are, therefore, deeply interested and obligated to form and 
maintain such devotional habits of preparation for the sanc- 
tuary, that its " waters" may be for us, from sabbath to sab- 
bath, cleansing, healing, and refreshing. David felt the ne- 
cessity of this, and never trusted his principles of love or 
relish for Zion to their own vitality or unaided influence ; 
but prayed habitually, "O send out thy light and thy truth ; 
let them lead me, let them bring me unto thy holy hill and to 
thy Tabernacles. Then will I go unto the altar of God, un- 
to God my exceeding joyp It was thus that David found 
the house of God to be the gate of heaven to his soul. 

Whenever the benefits of the sanctuary are thus strongly 
stated, and preparation for it thus solemnly enforced, you 
naturally, and not improperly, advert in your own minds to 
the character and preaching of the minister of that sanctu- 
ary which you attend. And you ought to "take heed" who 
you hear, and Hiat you hear, as well as " how you hear." 
It is as much your duty to quit a minister who is not a man 
of God, and' to shun a ministry which shuns to declare the 
whole counsel of God, as it is to attend the house of God. 
Your love to Zion is but lukewarm if you countenance a bad 



FOR THE SANCTUARY. 195 

man or false doctrine in Zion. Hearers have it, however, 
in their power to make both a good man and good preach- 
ing much better. For if both are worthy of esteem, even 
whilst his people are not very prayerful, or whilst only a 
few of them are so, what would his spirits or sermons be, 
were he sure that the great body of his charge came from 
their closets to the Sanctuary ? 

You have perhaps said, when you heard of the preaching 
of Whitfield, Romaine, and Spencer, why do notour min- 
isters preach with their unction and energy ? One reason 
is that far fewer pray for us than the number who prayed 
for them. Whitfield was borne up and borne through by 
the high and sweet consciousness, that underneath him were 
the wings of the secret and family prayers of thousands. 
He had Aarons and Hurs to hold up his hands upon every 
mount to Amalek, where he unfurled the standard of the 
cross. Under such circumstances he could not, and no 
good man could, be cold or tame in his preaching. 

It may be said in answer to this, " that W r hitfield, by his 
own devotional spirit and example, created the prayerful- 
ness which thus inspired and sustained him." And to a great 
extent this is true. But "prayer was made for him," not 
only by his own converts, but by all who loved and longed 
for the conversion of souls. He knew this — and " watched 
for souls," as one who must give account. 

Now something, yea much, of this, you may promote by 
a prayerful regard to your own profiting ; for if you consult 
your own spiritual benefit, your minister is sure to be bene- 
fited. A praying people will make a preaching minister, 
as much by their prayers for themselves as by what they offer 
for him. And in this obvious way ; while the conscious- 
ness that he has not forgotten at the mercy-seat, will sooth 
his spirit, that consciousness that you have been alone with 
God, and are come from communing with God and the 
Lamb, will rouse his spirit to meet your spirit, so as to min- 
gle with it in all its holy aspirations. He will feel, through 
all his soul, that a devotional people cannot be edified by 



196 DEVOTIONAL PREPARATION 

an undevotional minister — that a sermon unbaptized by 
prayer will betray itself and him too, amongst the prayer- 
ful ; and that no dexterity in speaking will mask heartless- 
ness in thinking. Thus he will have, in your devotional 
character, a check upon his own ; and his own, thus kept 
on the alert, will react, upon yours, in a similar way. 

Besides, if your errand to the house of God, be a spiritu- 
al one, you cannot expect to succeed v/ithout trying, at least, 
to be " in the spirit on the Lord's day" before you go out. 
It should not depend upon the morning prayer, or the morn- 
ing sermon, of the minister, whether you shall be in good 
or bad frame of mind during the Sabbath. They may, in- 
deed, have occasionally broken up a bad frame of mind, and 
been, unexpectedly, the means of restoring your soul from 
its wanderings ; but, whenever they have been instrument- 
al in this way, you have been made to feel deeply, at the 
time, that such sovereign lifts were fraught with reproof, as 
well as with revival. You never were unexpectedly quick- 
ened in the Sanctuary, without being cut to the heart, by 
the consciousness that you might have been restored soon- 
er, if you had not restrained prayer before God. Accord- 
ingly, your first resolution, when thus brought again to your 
" right mind" was, that you would not let things go wrong 
again between you and God, by coming prayerless or heart- 
less to the house of God. I remind you of this fact that 
you may feel that you have no reason to expect to see his 
glory in the sanctuary, unless you have prayed at home, "J 
beseech, thee, show me thy glory." Whatever is worth finding 
in his house, is worth seeking in your own closet. It is, 
therefore, presumption, if not high insult, to expect the di- 
vine presence or blessing in Zion, if you neglect to pray 
for them before we come to Zion. If we would feed upon 
its "green pastures," or be refreshed by its "still waters," 
we must, like David, pray, "0 send out thy light and thy 
truth : let them lead me, let them guide me to thy holy hill." 

It is much easier to enforce this rule than to endear it. 
It may, however, be commended, as well as commanded :, 



FOR THE SANCTUARY. 197 

for your own comfort is inseparably connected with its ob- 
servance. Now you know, by experience, that it is a 
wretched post to sit in the house of God listening to prom- 
ises, which you cannot lay hold on for yourselves : look- 
ing at prospects of heaven, which you dare not realize ; 
hearing of sweet feelings, which you have lost! Nothing 
is more painful than to see the wells of salvation overflow- 
ing with the waters of life, and feel averse or unable to 
drink. The fabled cup of Tantalus is nothing to this, when 
the soul feels, at the same time, its own value, and cannot 
forget the solemnities of eternity. Well, whatever there be 
in all this that is humiliating or painful, commends, as well 
as enforces, thoughtful and prayerful preparation for the 
sanctuary. For you do not, you cannot, wish to spend sab- 
bath after sabbath, thus cold and comfortless. Only think 
of a year of such sabbaths ! No communion with God — no 
witness of the spirit — no foretastes of heaven — no growth 
in grace — no peace of conscience — no holy liberty of soul 
in prayer or praise ! Can you bear the idea of this ? If not, 
what is to prevent the reality, if sloth or sleep be allowed to 
waste the sabbath morning ? For, be assured, God will not 
humour our indolence by comforting us under it. The arm 
of the Lord will not " awake" to uphold or protect us, if we 
sleep, when we ought to be up and calling on it to awake 
for our help. We have found, by experience, that this is 
only too true. 

Happily, however, this is not the whole of our experience. 
We have found too, at times, that the " glorious things" 
spoken of Zion are true. " As we have heard, so we have 
seen, in the city of God" The house of God has been, in- 
deed, the very gate of heaven to us. It was so when the 
great salvation first opened unto us in its greatness — when 
the glories of the cross first awoke our wonder — when we 
first saw our own way and welcome to the refuge set before 
us in the gospel — when we felt the first rising of a hope 
full of immortality, and, with adoring but speechless grati- 
tude, wept out the weighty sentiment, " why me-^why me y 
17* 



198 DEVOTIONAL PREPARATION 

Lord .'" The Sabbath was not a weariness then, nor the 
ordinances of the sanctuary tedious. We felt as if we 
could have taken an eternity of these hallowed hours and 
emotions. 

I appeal to you for the truth of this statement. I must 
do more ; — Was your business or your family neglected or 
injured at all, whilst your soul was thus absorbed with the 
glories of salvation ? Had your wife, your children, your 
tradesmen, your servants, reason to complain of your con- 
duct or spirit, whilst you were thus happy in religion ? O, 
no ! — this good hope through grace exalted all that was 
good in your character and temper, and brought under strong 
restraints all that was bad in both. Yes ; and whatever re- 
lapse there has been in either since, has risen, in no small 
degree, from the decay of that good hope. " For whosoever 
hath this hope in Christ, puririeth himself even as he is pure," 
whilst it is devotionally maintained. 

It may be, however, that you suspect it to be impossible 
to maintain a settled hope of salvation. You may have 
found it decline and shake, even whilst your general char- 
acter remained firm ; and thus you have been led to think 
that, do what you would, you cannot keep it up. Now, on 
the supposition that there is much truth in all this, see what 
it proves, viz. : — that if the ordinances and the fellowship, 
the checks and charms of the house of God, lose their in- 
fluence over you, you may be a lost man in the hour of trial 
and temptation ! For if you have not hope enough to for- 
tify you against them, you, of all men, need most to improve 
divine ordinances, that their sweet influence may aid your 
feeble hopes. It is, therefore, at your peril, during all the 
week, if you come to the sanctuary hurried or heartless. 
For unless you are awed or encouraged by eternal things 
on the Sabbath, and kept alive to the worth of your soul and 
the evil of sin, and kept under a deep sense of the divine 
presence and authority, and held up by the counsel and ex- 
ample of your brethren, you cannot " stand in the evil day." 
And as the bare idea of apostatizing, or falling, shocks you, 



FOR THE SANCTUARY. 199 

O risk not the dread reality by coming prayerless to the 
house of God. Thoughtful and prayerful preparation for 
the sanctuary is, however, not less necessary in the case of 
those who enjoy some settled hope of eternal life. A good 
hope through grace can only be well maintained by acquiring 
" more grace." This it wanted in order to keep before you 
the grounds of hope, in their strength and glory. Any one 
can talk of Christ being the sole and sure foundation of all 
warrantable hope. Any one can argue that the love and 
mercy of the divine character warrant much hope. But — 
to see this clearly, to feel it powerfully, to realize it for our- 
selves, so vividly as to enjoy it, is not an easy attainment, 
nor, when attained, easily kept up. In fact, these realizing 
views of the glorious gospel fade and vanish away, when- 
ever the spirit of devotion is allowed to decline. And they 
are both dim and indistinct on all the Sabbath mornings 
when you have no heart for secret prayer. Their distance 
from you is always the measure of your distance from God. 
Your hopes are just as firm as the cherubim upon the mercy- 
seat, in proportion as you act as a priest before it. Or, if 
they do stand, after the spirit of prayer is fallen, they stand, 
only as the cherubim when the glory departed — cold and 
naked. Thus it is, that the want of a good conscience to- 
wards God or man, overthrows or overcasts a good hope 
through grace. And no sermon which does not set the 
conscience right, can set up, or clear up, that hope again. 
Accordingly, you have found, when you have come prayer- 
less to the sanctuary, or without such praying as will bear 
to be thought of, the best sermons have failed to comfort 
you. You durst not take comfort from them, owing to the 
cutting recollection, that your heart was far from God, or 
not right with God at home. Whereas, when you have 
prayed so that your sincerity and solicitude were beyond a 
doubt ; so that you could appeal to the Searcher of hearts 
as the witness of your spiritual desires ; and so that it was 
not unlikely that he would meet with you, and manifest 
himself to your soul in his house — you have then found that 



200 DEVOTIONAL PREPARATION 

you could " take the cup of salvation," and drink abundantly, 
without fear or overwhelming shame. 

Oh, why should it not be always thus with you? It 
might be so. God is not unwilling that you should be 
"joyful in the house of prayer." He has not made it a 
difficult thing to rejoice before him in Zion. There is pro- 
vision enough, in the unsearchable riches of Christ to make 
his people " shout aloud for joy." And all that is wanting 
in order to bring or keep their harps from the " willows," is 
holding faith and a good conscience, by frequent and fervent 
prayer for the work and witness of the Spirit. 

Happiness in the sanctuary is not, however, the only 
thing which we need. As parents, we need grace to help 
us to train up our children in the nurture and admonition of 
the Lord. And we feel that, if we were to forsake the 
house of God, we not only could not expect him to bless 
our families, but that our example might ruin them. So far 
we judge aright. But we ought also to be intent upon 
deriving such benefit from divine ordinances, that our pa- 
rental character may improve every Sabbath in worth and 
weight. We ought never to visit the house of God, with- 
out looking at our children in the light both of time and 
eternity, and praying that the means of grace may revive 
and increase our love to their souls. We, in fact, forget 
one grand part of our errand to the gates of Zion, if we do 
not seek expressly and importunately to be fitted for the 
duties of home, as well as of public life. Every Sabbath 
ought to make us, and might make us, better fathers and 
mothers. For it is not necessary, in order to be so, that 
parental duties should be often brought before us. Any 
subject, and every subject, which brings eternal things to 
bear upon our hearts and consciences, will improve and 
confirm our parental character. 

Whatever truth there is in these views of the nature and 
necessity of devout preparation for public worship, is of 
supreme importance to all who have much to do or suffer in 
the world. If your Sabbaths are not made the most ©#, 



FOK THE SANCTUARY. 201 

by being well prepared for and well spent, it must go very 
ill with your souls during the week. The bustle and cares 
of life, as you well know, have a desolating and hardening 
influence upon the heart. They sometimes almost upset 
the form of godliness, as well as deaden the power of it ; 
and thus throw the mind into a state of such hurry, and 
confusion, and restlessness, and impatience, that it can hard- 
ly detach itself from its business and embarrassments. 
These even follow you to the house of God, and force them- 
selves into your closet, and up to the sacramental table, at 
times. Now, if this haunting and harassing influence of 
the world should go farther, and get a firmer hold upon you, 
it may end fatally. It has placed you already upon what 
you feel to be the brink of a precipice which makes you 
almost totter. The same influence, when given way to, 
has drowned many in perdition, or pierced them through 
with many sorrows. Now if you would stand, you must 
"take heed lest you fall." But it is not taking sufficient 
" heed," merely to maintain your attendance upon the sanc- 
tuary. That is, indeed essential to your safety; for God 
will forsake the man who forsakes his word and worship. 
That man will sink as surely as if he were to quit a ship 
in the midst of the ocean. More, however, is requisite 
than not " forsaking the assembling of ourselves together'' 
with them who love Zion. You must strive to be " in the 
Spirit on the Lord's day," if you would pass unspotted or 
safely through the world during the week. For, if you find 
it to be hard work to " possess your soul in patience," or to 
maintain the power of godliness, amidst the pressure of 
your engagements, even in those weeks which are ushered 
in by refreshing Sabbaths and enjoyed sacraments, it must 
be impossible to do so when Sabbaths and sacraments are 
not " times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord." 

Men of business ! suffer the word of exhortation. You 
know that the influence of the world is baneful. But, do 
acquaint yourselves fully with the Saviour's opinion of it. 
Christ never spoke of the world to his disciples, but with 



202 THE INFLUENCE OF PRAYER 

the most tremendous emphasis. There is nothing in all 
that he said of danger from Satan, more solemn than what 
he said of the evil of the world. The prayer he offered 
on Peter's behalf, when Satan desired to sift him as wheat, 
has not been left on record; whereas the prayer against 
the evil influence of the world is recorded at full length. 
No prayer of Christ is so long, or more fervent. He re- 
peats the petition again and again, that his disciples may 
be kept from " the evil." 

This is not by accident. John, who heard and recorded 
this prayer, evidently regarded the fact as full of special 
design. And that he remembered it through life, is certain 
from the frequency and force of his protest against the love 
of the world. His epistles are a solemn commentary on 
the Saviour's intercessory prayer. And, in the same spir- 
it, Paul's chief practical reason for glorying only in the 
cross of Christ is assigned thus : " by which I am crucified 
unto the world, and the world unto me." 

Now, you are emphatically "in the world," and can only be 
effectually " kept from the evil of it," by making your Sab- 
baths a cloud of glory, which shall encircle and enshrine 
the whole week with the light and warmth of devotion. 



No. IX. 

THE INFLUENCE OF PRAYER UPON PEACE OF 
MIND UNDER THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 

What an idea Paul must have had of prayer, as an anti- 
dote to the cares of life and godliness, when he said to the 
Philippians, "Be careful for nothing: but in everything, 
by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your re- 
quests be made known unto God ; and the peace of God, 
which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts 



UNDER THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 203 

and minds through Christ Jesus !" This way of disposing 
of our cares and anxieties is so little understood, or so much 
disliked, that we are inclined to doubt its efficacy in our 
own case ; or to ask — how is it possible, in a world like 
this, to " be careful for nothing?' 11 Our temporal cares are, 
as we think, our chief hinderances in prayer. We ever 
turn them, at times, into excuses for the neglect of prayer ; 
and imagine, when our cares are many and pressing, that 
much prayer cannot be expected from us. For, whatever 
influence the calamities of life may have in sending us often 
to our knees, the cares of life have a direct tendency to set 
aside, or shorten secret prayer. Indeed, at first sight, our 
ordinary cares do not seem, to us, to be things which prayer 
can remedy ; but things which only time and toil can remove. 
Accordingly, when our temporal affairs go wrong, or our 
prospects darken, without exactly overwhelming us, we nat- 
urally devote to them, not a larger measure of secret prayer, 
but a larger portion of time and thought, it is thinking, not 
praying, that seems called for, under embarrassment and 
anxiety. Under heavy calamity, whether personal or do- 
mestic, we see, at once, that prayer is our only resource, 
because God alone can deliver us ; but when we are merely 
vexed or plagued, we feel as if deliverance depended more 
upon our own good management, or upon the conduct of 
others, than upon the providence of God. Thus we are 
tempted to lessen prayer, and to increase effort, under an 
idea that great effort is the only remedy. 

And, certainly, without effort, prayer will not prove a 
remedy for misfortune, or embarrassment. He who does 
nothing but pray, when the times are bad, or his affairs try- 
ing, will not surmount his difficulties. Prayer will not pay 
debts nor maintain credit, nor meet the emergencies of 
business. A man praying, when he ought to be working, 
is brother in impiety to the man who is working when he 
ought to be praying. This concession cannot be too frankly 
made, nor too forcibly stated, by the ministers of the gospel. 
It is not, however, in this way that the truly serious are in 



201 THE INFLUENCL OP PRAYER 

most danger of erring. When any thing of this kind occurs, 
it is always in the case of men who never were consistent 
professors of religion ; but doubtful characters from the first. 
Our error, in seasons of trial, is not in praying too much, 
but in praying too little, or less than usual. And this is a 
dangerous error, whatever be the cause or character of our 
trials. For its direct tendency is to turn " the mighty hand 
of God" against us, and to make all that is bad in our lot 
worse. Nothing, therefore, can be more unwise than a 
process which must grieve the Holy Spirit, and make God 
our enemy. Now this will be the effect of ceasing to pray, 
when the troubles of life are pressing. God both permits 
and sends these troubles for the express purpose of bringing 
us nearer to himself, and for increasing the spirit and habit 
of prayer; and, therefore, if we allow our cares to break 
up our devotional habits, and thus to draw us away from 
God, we are sure to draw down upon ourselves his dis- 
pleasure, in addition to all other trials. And, when He 
takes up the rod to contend against us, who can tell how 
long or severely he may employ it ! God does not, indeed, 
afflict willingly, nor grieve unnecessarily, the children of 
men ; but he will not be neglected nor forgotten ; he will 
not allow himself to be deserted with impunity. God acts, 
invariably, with an express reference to our souls and eter- 
nity ; and, therefore, unless he were to abandon them to a 
desolate eternity, he must multiply or prolong our troubles, 
if we allow them to estrange our hearts and habits from the 
throne of grace. 

This is not the view we are apt to take of the matter. 
When we are injured by treachery, or wounded byunkind- 
ness ; when the badness of the times, or the baseness of 
false friends, wring our hearts, until we can think of nothing 
else, we feel as if prayer, in this stale of mind, would be 
mere mockery of God and useless to ourselves. The loss, 
the injury, aud the wounds of the heart, which we have 
sustained, are so present to our minds, and press so upon 
all our feelings, and keep up such an agitation of soul, that 



UNDER THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 205 

it seems impossible to pray. " What could we pray for at 
such a time and in such a temper ?" In this way we reason. 
Or if we do try to pray as usual, we soon find that we cannot. 
We are so haunted and harassed by the recollection of our 
grievances, that every thing else is almost banished from 
our memory. We catch ourselves thinking of nothing else, 
even when our knees are bended, and our lips speaking be- 
fore God. We find that, whilst going over our usual peti- 
tions, in words, we have been going over, in thought, the 
whole history of our injuries. " And this," we justly say, 
" is not praying." We even conclude that it is better to 
keep out of our closet altogether for a time, than to enter 
into it with such feelings uppermost in our minds. 

This is the view we are inclined to take of the matter. 
And, at first sight, it seems very plausible. It manifests, 
however, a sad lack of common sense, as well as of gra- 
cious principle, when we thus give way to such excuses. 
For, what good can all our pondering upon our losses or 
crosses do 1 It will not repair the one, nor remove the 
other. We are, in fact, doubling our cares, every time we 
go over the history of them. Whilst thus placing them in 
every light, we are aggravating them. Whilst dwelling 
upon them, we are imbittering our remaining comforts, and 
actually risking the loss of every thing ; for we may fret 
ourselves into a fever or phrensy, and thus be unfitted for all 
the duties and enjoyments of life. 

It is upon this principle, as well as upon higher consid- 
erations, that God forbids all undue care. It cannot be 
indulged with safety to our health of body or mind, nor 
with benefit to any of our interests. Its direct tendency is 
to make all that is bad worse, and to imbitter all that is 
sweet in our lot. Accordingly, we have never mended any 
thing that was wrong, by vexing ourselves about it. When- 
ever we have got over any grievance, it has been by an 
effort to forgive it, or by praying down the memory of it. 
Peace and composure of mind have never been regained, 
until we returned to our old devotional habits. This return, 

vol. i. — 18 



206 THE INFLUENCE OF PRAYER 

however, does not usually take place, until we are actually 
tired of brooding and fretting over our cares. We indulge 
" our vexation of spirit," until it work itself out by its own 
violence or is displaced by some more absorbing subject. 
This, however, is not the scriptural way of getting over the 
vexations and grievances of life. Leaving them to die a 
natural death is not Christian prudence. Yielding to their 
distracting influence, until we are sick of it, is not creditable 
to our principles, nor to our common sense. They ought 
to be met at once by prayer, and to be put down by it. And 
this is not impossible, however difficult it may seem at first 
sight. There is, in fact, no case of trial, in which prayer 
is not an effectual antidote against disquietude and corro- 
ding anxiety. "The peace of God" can and will keep both 
the " heart and mind" of those who cast all their care upon 
God, "by supplication and prayer, with thanksgiving." 
Nothing can resist the sweet influence of this devotional 
habit. 

If we doubt the truth of this, there is some grand defect 
in our ideas of prayer itself, or in our manner of praying, 
in reference to cares and vexations. Prayer, under them, 
must be regulated by scriptural rules, if we would expe- 
rience the benefit of it. Now, one of these rules is, that it 
must be " with thanksgiving.'"' If, therefore, we go to the 
throne of grace, only to deplore our losses, only to unbosom 
our cares, or only to make known our wants, we have no 
warrant whatever to expect support or peace under them. 
Our " requests" must be mingled with " thanksgiving" if 
we would succeed in obtaining " grace to help in time of 
need." No wonder! for even when our cares are heaviest, 
and our wants most pressing, we have much cause for grat- 
itude. In general, the comforts which are left with us are 
more than those which are taken away, whether they be 
property, friends, or business. And even when what is left 
is nothing, compared with what is lost, there is always 
something remains worthy of being gratefully acknow- 
ledged. However prone, therefore, we may be to lose, in 



UNDER THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 207 

what is lost, the recollection and estimate of what is left, 
God does not forget what is spared to us, nor forego his 
claims upon our gratitude. He will be acknowledged for 
what we have, as well as applied to for what we want. In- 
stead, therefore, of going to our closets, only to pour out 
griefs before him, we ought to go also for the express pur- 
pose of reviewing with wonder, and recording with grati- 
tude, every spared comfort and continued mercy. This is 
an essential part of the devotional process of throwing off 
undue carefulness ; and, accordingly, it is also an effectual 
part. 

"But," it may be said, "who can engage in thanksgiving, 
when his heart is bleeding by unkindness, or treachery, or 
bereavement ?" Why, all whose hearts have any hope of 
salvation. Is the hope of eternal life such a trifle as to be 
unworthy of, or unfit for, a song of praise, whenever any of 
the comforts of this life are taken away ? What a poor hold 
of it we must have, if we can forget it in the day of calami- 
ty ! What a low estimate we have formed of it, if it can be 
insipid whenever we are put out of the way by temporal 
things ! I do not think lightly of cares or crosses, vexations 
or grievances — they are hard to bear ; but what are they, 
compared with the wrath and curse of God, or with the 
agonies of despair ? Any lot, out of hell, demands and de- 
serves our fervent gratitude ; and, where the hope of heav- 
en is left in the bosom, no earthly loss can excuse silence. 
But, in general, how many other comforts are left with it! 
The friends who remain true to us are more than those who 
have betrayed us. Our losses have not left us destitute. 
Our bereavements have not made us homeless. If a few 
have wounded our hearts, more have tried to pour balm in- 
to them. Besides, God has never forsaken us. God has 
never hurt our feelings by unkindness. God has never be- 
trayed our confidence. He has been faithful, watchful, and 
tender, throughout all his dealings with us. And shall the 
ingratitude or baseness of others turn us against him ? Shall 
we cease to praise the Father of our mercies, because a fel- 



208 THE INFLUENCE OF PRAYER 

low-creature deserves blame ? Shall we resent our injuries 
upon God, upon our Saviour, or upon the Holy Spirit,, by- 
neglecting them, because others have acted unjustly to- 
wards us ? The bare idea is equally shocking and absurd. 

You see, you begin to feel now, that if after any harassing 
or unhinging event the first thing we did was — to retire in- 
to the presence of God, to consider, first, our untouched 
property, our untouched comforts, our untouched friends, 
and our untouched hopes, we could not be so overcome as 
we usually have been, nor so much put out of the way. 
The review of what is left would compel thanksgiving : and 
praise would fit the mind for prayer. But if we go into the 
closet choking and chafed with the sense of injury, and 
looking only at the persons who inflicted it, it is impossible 
to pray at all. Our breast must be cleared by praise, before 
it can be calmed by prayer, at such times. 

This, however, is not the only thing necessary, in order 
to secure peace of mind under the trials of life. It is not 
every kind of praying that will meet our case. Even earn- 
est supplication for pity and support is not fully to the point, 
when the heart is full of anger or vexation. Indeed, in that 
state, it cannot be comforted, and will not be humoured ; for 
God will not countenance a bad spirit in his children. He 
may not always "rebuke" a wrong spirit in them ; but he 
will only sooth them by subduing it. And he will teach 
you, as he did Jonah, to cease from saying, "I do well to 
be angry." Such being his rule in vouchsafing support and 
consolation to sufferers, it is self-evident that our prayers 
under the trials of life should include — 

First. A distinct and humble acknowledgement of God's 
supreme right to permit these trials. Until this be confessed, 
it is impossible to pray with pleasure or advantage. Indeed, 
we are not suppliants at all, but claimants, whilst we con- 
sider it unjust or unkind, on the part of God, to permit these 
trials. As they come from the hand of man, they may be 
flagrantly unjust ; but, as they come from the hand of God, 
they cannot be even unkind or unnecessary. They may be 



UNDER THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 209 

wholly undeserved by us, so far as man is concerned ; but 
they are wholly deserved from God. He might justly per- 
mit and appoint far more and heavier trials than any we 
have ever experienced; for, whatever they be, "he hath not 
dealt with us according to our sins, nor rewarded us accord- 
ing to our iniquities." We do not understand the evil of 
sin, nor the necessity of holiness, if we deny or doubt this. 
The punishment of sin is wrath to the uttermost ; and there- 
fore, chastisement for sin, however severe, is, in face, mercy. 

It is by forgetting or overlooking this scriptural view of our 
trials, that they so fill us with care, and unfit us for devotion. 
We confine our attention to them as unmerited injuries from 
the hand of man, instead of regarding them also as merited 
chastisements from the hand of God. Accordingly, we 
cannot pray whilst we take this partial view of them. But 
we can pray, even when they press heaviest, if we are pre- 
pared to confess that we deserve them all and more, from 
God. This confession is itself, the best kind of prayer in 
times of trial. In fact no other kind of prayer will be of 
any use, until we fully acknowledge before God that his 
judgments are just. Whoever, therefore, would regain 
peace of mind, or get over the unhappy and unholy feelings 
created by cares and vexations, must make up his mind to 
go fully into the duty of confession, however painful or 
mortifying it may seem to him at first. It will amply repay 
him! He will feel himself a new man, from the moment 
he has humbly bowed to the sentence of God. The act of 
humiliation will pluck from his bosom the canker of pride, 
and thus make room again for the peace of God. 

Secondly. Our prayers under the trials of life, must 
include a distinct acknowledgment of the wisdom and kind- 
ness of God. It is both wise and kind, as well as just, on 
the part of God, to try the faith and patience of believers. 
For how else could we fully ascertain the sincerity of our 
faith or love ? We often doubt it, and pray that God would 
put it beyond all doubt. Now, the ordinary trials of life 
are the best tests of our sincerity : far better than extraor- 
18* 



210 THE INFLUENCE OF PRAYER 

dinary calamities are. Under heavy calamities we must 
submit, because we cannot resist. They also break down 
or soften the spirit so that it is difficult to decide whether 
our feelings, under them, are from the weakness of nature, 
or the strength of grace. Whereas the trials which leave 
us in full possession of all our faculties, and with some 
opportunities of surmounting them, prove what our princi- 
ples are and can bear. When therefore we do not, and 
dare not, quit the narrow way, even when it is thorny and 
rugged, our sincerity is demonstrated to ourselves and 
others. And it is delightful to feel that, though disconcert- 
ed and somewhat discouraged, the Saviour is dearer to us 
than any thing we have lost. Then the soul gets a clear 
sight of its own principles, as John did when he said, "this 
is the victory which overcometh the world, even our faith." 
Now, if it be wise to bring us thus fully to the point, it 
must be kind to employ means which do it effectually. In 
praying, therefore, under them, this must be acknowledged 
before God. And the way to bring out the acknowledg- 
ment is to press home upon ourselves the questions, which 
is better, to be uncertain of the reality of my faith, or to be 
sure of it 1 To know that my heart is right with God, or 
to be in perpetual doubt of it ? To feel sure that I am won 
to the cross by the worth of salvation, and not bribed to it 
by the comforts of life ? Such questions search the heart 
and the reins. They throw us upon the meaning of our 
professions of faith and love. We have often said with 
Paul, " yea, doubtless, I count all things but loss that I 
may be found in Christ ;" and this is easily said, when we 
are losing nothing. Accordingly it is doubtful, and not 
" doubtless," in our case, until we have " suffered the loss" 
of something, without shrinking from Christ. Paul had 
suffered the loss of " all things," when he avowed his ad- 
herence to the Saviour ; and, therefore, all things in his 
lot, and conduct, and temper, echoed back his " doubtless." 
To pray in the spirit thus characterized and commended, 
is not, indeed, easy. It is almost impossible at first, or by 



UNDER THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 211 

a direct effort. Such submission and gratitude, under vex- 
ing and wasting cares, can only be acquired by concentra- 
ting our prayers, for a time, upon our eternal interests. 
They must be all in all, before our temporal interests can 
be seen in their true light. The temporal will seem unduly 
important, until the eternal appear as they are — infinitely 
important ! No one can calmly lose this world's goods, or 
keep a loose hold of them, who has not a firm hold upon 
the glories of the world to come. His efforts to reason 
down, or pray down, disquietude, will defeat themselves, 
until he " can read" or determine to read 

" His title clear, 
To mansions in the skies." 

It was only when Paul looked at the things which were 
unseen and eternal, that he was able to counterbalance the 
weight of the things which were seen and temporal. And 
this maxim is as necessary in our case, however much less 
than his our trials may be. 

Are you then safe for eternity ? Are you sure of your 
personal interest in Christ and heaven? If not, let all 
your thoughts and prayers centre upon the settlement, the 
immediate and perfect settlement, of this chief point. This 
process will soon place temporal things before you, as they 
appear to a dying man. It is not by an effort that he for- 
gets them — but by the influence of an opening eternity. 
Dwell, therefore, on the sides of eternity, with the ques- 
tion, " Am I safe ?" until you can answer it before God 
and man, on scriptural grounds. Thus prayer will produce 
peace, even in your case.* 

* See "Eternity Realized, or a Guide to the Thoughtful ;" the 
third part of this volume. 



212 the saviour's 

No. X. 

THE SAVIOUR'S DEVOTIONAL HABITS. 

" Jesus went up into a mountain ;" for what purpose ? 
To view the Judean landscape, while the setting sun was 
flushing the lake of Gennesaret, and flinging his yellow 
radiance over the adjacent wilderness ? — No. 

" When the evening was come, Jesus was there alone." 
Why? — That he might watch the rising of the evening 
star, and mark the lamps of heaven kindling in clusters 
and constellations throughout the hemisphere ? No. Did 
he, then, ascend the mountain to enjoy repose 1 The 
Saviour needed rest at the time, for he had spent the day in 
healing the sick and feeding the hungry, under a scorching 
sun, and amidst a crowding multitude. But it was not for 
rest that he retired : " He went up to a mountain apart to 
pray" Was this devotional exercise less sublime than 
gazing on the gilded landscape and the glowing firmament ? 
Those who ascend mountains, voluntarily and alone, do so, 
in general, to indulge poetic or scientific taste ; to com- 
mand the prospect, and to commune with nature in silence 
and solitude. Jesus ascended to pray ; and by prayer, to 
commune with God : a nobler communion than poets or 
philosophers ever had with nature, in her majestic or love- 
ly scenes. And yet, how few are alive to the sublimity of 
devotional solitude ! Praying in secret to the Father who 
seeth in se cret, is an exercise equally solemn and august ; 
but how little interest it excites to say of a man, he is alone 
praying ! 

Tell men of taste that their favourite poet is alone amidst 
the scenery of the lakes or the Grampians ; alone on the 
Alps or the Andes ; alone in the Coliseum of Rome, or 
amidst the Pyramids of Egypt ; and immediately his ad- 
mirers will realize his emotions, and dwell with him in 



DEVOTIONAL HABITS. 213 

spirit, amidst clouds and cataracts, rocks and ruins, and 
feel as if he were more than mortal. But tell them that 
he is alone praying : and that moment the charm will be 
dissolved, and the man pitied as insane, or despised as fa- 
natical. So lightly is devotional solitude esteemed ! 

Tell scientific men, that the first astronomer of the age 
is alone in the chief observatory in the world, with the 
most powerful telescopes ever lifted to the heavens ; and 
all kindred minds will at once kindle in prospect of his dis- 
coveries. The silence and solitude of his post are held 
sublime, and felt to be in harmony with the silent sweep of 
the celestial orbs, and the music of the spheres. But tell 
his admirers that he often pauses, amidst the roll and ra- 
diance of the heavenly bodies, to pray ; and although one 
of their own poets has said that 

" An undevout astronomer is mad," 
—2 I. 

his devotion will be esteemed madness or weakness. 

" The poet's eye, in a fine phrensy rolling, 

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven," 

and is almost adored ; but the penitent's eyes, swimming 
in tears of contrition, and hardly daring to look up, even 
when alone before God, are despised by the generality of 
mankind. But " a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou 
wilt not despise." The astronomer tracing the stars in 
their courses, and tracking the devious comet in its flight, 
is held to be a star of the first magnitude in mental system 
— strong in understanding, and lofty in genius. But the 
Christian, retired to pray, is held to be almost mean-spirited, 
and yet — he lifts his adoring eyes to heaven, of which the 
incarnate " brightness of the Father's glory" is both " the 
morning star" and " the sun of righteousness ;" and in his 
light sees the landscape of eternity illuminated — the valley 
of the shadow of death, irradiated with the Divine pre- 
sence, and all the intermediate track of time basking under 



214 the saviour's 

the eye of Providence. Often, when alone praying, he 
finds his closet the very gate of heaven, and feels as if 
" open vision" would follow his intimate communion with 
God and the Lamb. Whatever, therefore, may be thought 
or said, by taste, science, or ignorance, of going apart and 
being alone to pray, devotional solitude is often exhilara- 
ting, and always soothing. 

It is commended by the high example, and commanded 
by the high authority, of the Saviour : — 

" Cold mountains, and the midnight air, 
Witnessed the fervour of his prayer." 

His example does not, of course, enforce an ascent to a 
mountain in order to pray. He went up into a mountain 
from necessity — not from choice ; because, as the Son of 
man, he had not where to lay his head ; no home or closet. 
To those who have both, his command is, " Enter into thy 
closet." And we learn, from his example, that inconvenience 
must not prevent secret prayer. Here was the Saviour up- 
on a lonely mountain — exposed to the cold winds and dews 
of the night — the ground damp beneath his knees, and the 
air chill around him ; and yet he prayed — prayed long ; the 
morning star often rinding him where the evening star had 
left him. We have not such inconveniences to surmount. 
What is a cold room in winter, or a close room in summer, 
compared to the hoary side of a bleak and dreary mountain 
at midnight ? And yet, how often are cold and heat al- 
lowed to hinder or hurry over secret prayer ? Let sloth 
look to the Saviour's retirement, and blush ! God might 
have enjoined us to ascend such a mountain whenever we 
prayed ; and if he had commanded it, the duty would have 
been indispensable : but, in tender accommodation to our 
comfort, he has granted us, what he withheld from his in- 
carnate Son — a house ; and says, " Enter into thy closet." 
The Saviour's example proves that the fatigue of labour 
must not prevent secret prayer. He had spent the day 
until the evening in active exertion amongst the multitude 



DEVOTIONAL HABITS. 215 

that followed him into the wilderness. During all the time 
he had been under the burning sun in a sandy desert, and 
had afterward to ascend the mountain alone. And there — 
neither shelter nor refreshment awaited him ; but, although 
thus exhausted and exposed, he closed the labours of the 
day by prayer. Now, his example ought to have all the 
authority of a law — all the influence of a charm upon his 
disciples. We do not come home more fatigued than he 
was. He had no house — no domestic comforts — neither 
shelter nor pillow for his sacred head ; and yet he went 
apart to pray. He will remind the prayerless of this fact. 

The Saviour's example proves that even deeds of charity 
and great exertions for the poor and afflicted, must not set 
aside secret prayer. He closed a day of mighty effort on be- 
half of suffering humanity, by going apart to pray. And sure- 
ly if serving others must not prevent devotional solitude, serv- 
ing ourself must not be allowed to do so ; if acts of charity 
will not excuse neglect, the labours of industry cannot ; if giv- 
ing money to the poor be no plea for the omission of prayer, 
making money is not a valid one. Accordingly, while " dili- 
gence in business" is expressly enjoined, " fervency of spirit" 
in prayer, rests upon the same high and unalterable authority. 
Pray or perish is the alternative set before us in the gospel. 

The Saviour's example proves that no strength of charac- 
ter or of grace can render devotional solitude unnecessary. 
He who had the Spirit without measure — who knew no sin 
— who was full of grace, and in whom Satan could find 
nothing to work upon — He went apart to pray. He held 
neither the fulness of his Godhead, nor the perfection of his 
humanity, as a reason for restraining prayer. And surely 
nothing that we have " attained" can render us independent 
of secret devotion ! " The servant is not greater than his 
Lord." If, therefore, Satan, or sloth, or pride, say we may 
do with less prayer than at first, let us hear the. insinuation 
as we should the assertion that we can do with less glory- 
ing in the Cross than we began with. 

But here an important question forces itself upon the 



216 the saviour's 

mind — Why did the Saviour pray ? He did pray often and 
fervently ; and the fact has been perverted into an argument 
against his proper divinity. But remember what he prayed 
for ; it was chiefly for others ; and when it was for himself, 
never for ability to save — never for virtue to give efficacy 
to his atonement — never for strength to redeem. No — all 
his petitions in his own behalf were for the helps required by 
his human nature. He could, indeed, have drawn on the 
resources of his own personal Godhead : but it was neces- 
sary that the co-operation of the Father in the work of re 
demption should appear ; and, therefore, all the dependance 
of his humanity was thrown on the Father's good will : and 
thus prayer was rendered both necessary and proper. Be- 
sides, secret devotion is more than prayer : it is also com- 
munion with God. Now, what is more natural, and con- 
sistent, and becoming, than that the Son should retire to 
commune with the Father ? For, having dwelt in his bosom 
from eternity, it might be expected that he would maintain 
the original intimacy, both for its own sake, and that it 
might be known that neither distance nor incarnation had 
interrupted their fellowship. Instead, therefore, of dero- 
gating from its divinity, such prayer harmonizes with the 
highest ideas of godhead — being in fact a specimen of its 
devout communion. Besides, in praying, as in all practical 
duty, the Saviour was acting as the example of his follow- 
ers. He had taught his disciples to pray : and he illustra- 
ted and enforced the lessons by his own devotional habits : 
and if it was worthy ^of his divinity to inculcate devotion, it 
could not be unworthy of him to exemplify it. " When he 
putteth forth his own sheep he goeth before them :" he sent 
them into secret to pray, and he himself went apart to pray. 
The Saviour consulted our interest as well as our Fa- 
ther's glory, when he enjoined devotional solitude upon his 
disciples. For, in the best frame of mind, a Christian re- 
quires to be alone at times. The privacy of the domestic 
altar is not sufficiently " apart," when the heart is full and 
overflowing with adoring and melting views of sovereign 



DEVOTIONAL HABITS. 217 

and free grace. The full-souled exclamation, " Why me, 
Lord !" with its tones and tears, is fit only for the ear of 
God. And when the witness of the Spirit is strong, and 
the seal of the spirit bright ; when the soul is borne away 
amongst " the deep things of God, and the dazzling scenes 
of eternity — we must be alone, or lose one half of the en- 
joyment. Even a family, however endeared, would be a 
check, at these sacred moments, on the full flow of devo- 
tional feelings, and on the flush of a hope full of immortali- 
ty. Solitude is the real element of these raptures. But 
then — the Christian is not alone ; the mount of communion 
is covered with " horses of fire, and chariots of fire." He 
is alone "with an innumerable company of angels, and with 
the spirits of just men made perfect." 

Solitude is also peculiarly suitable to the worst frames of a 
Christian's mind. The tones and terms in which backsli- 
ding, or indeed any sin, can be deplored in the domestic or 
social circle, are both too general and tame for the emotions 
of a contrite spirit. David was alone when he said, " I have 
gone astray like a lost sheep." Asaph was alone when he 
said, " I was as a beast before thee." Ephraim was alone 
when he smote upon his thigh and acknowledged that he 
had been as " a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke." And 
our secret sorrows and shame are not fit even for the ear of 
our families. They might be misunderstood and misinter- 
preted by others ; whereas. He who hears in secret can heal 
in secret. And what a sanctuary is solitude for the expres- 
sion of all those feelings which, even at home, can only be 
breathed in general and gentle terms ! It will not do to 
Utter before our families all our fears of death, nor all our 
anxieties for them. It will not do to unburden and unbo- 
som all the heart to any one but God. God seeth and hear- 
eth in secret. What a mercy ! What a wise and kind ar- 
rangement ! " It is good for me to draw night unto God," 
alone ! 

Vol. i. — 19 



218 COMMUNION WITH GOD 

No. XL 

COMMUNION WITH GOD IN AFFLICTION. 

Whilst it is still true that " through much tribulation we 
must enter into the kingdom of God," it is, happily, our lot 
to live at a time, and in a place, free from the fiery trial of 
persecution and martyrdom. Neither bonds nor imprison- 
ments await us in the service of God. Our property is safe, 
and our good name hardly in danger. " Cruel mockings y " 
for righteousness' sake, do not come from the public voice 
now ; and " scourgings," for the sake of Christ, would be 
denounced even by the enemies of the cross of Christ. 

This happy change in the public mind and manners de- 
mands our grateful acknowledgments. For if we are at 
times staggered and almost overwhelmed by the ordinary 
trials of life, what would be the effect of such fiery trials as 
the first Christians had to endure ? If we call, and feel our 
heaviest troubles to be, a furnace, what should we have 
thought of the Babylonian furnace and the flames of martyr* 
dom ? If w T e shrink from a sneer or sarcasm, now that it 
is no longer backed by the sword, how should we have 
acted when it was the signal for guards to arrest, or for the 
rabble to stone, Christians ? 

These are not the trials of our times. It was, howev r er, 
to such trials, chiefly, that the greatest of the " great and 
precious promises" refer. It is not exactly of chronic nor 
acute diseases of the body, that the Saviour and the apostles 
speak when they comfort the church under her manifold 
afflictions. It was not over sick-beds by name, nor over 
mere death-beds by name, that they opened the visions of 
all-sufficient grace, and of an eternal weight of glory ; but 
over racks, and scaffolds, and dungeons. 

These facts are startling at first sight ! They are, how- 
ever, facts ; and, therefore, should neither be concealed nor 
overlooked. We, indeed, have formed the habit of apply- 
ng any promise of grace or strength to any trial whatever. 



IN AFFLICTION. 219 

We do not hesitate to draw as freely upon the " strong con- 
solation" of the well-ordered covenant, when in sickness or 
pain, as the martyrs did when they were imprisoned and 
impaled. With not a tithe of their sufferings we lay claim 
to all their supports — so far as these were derived from the 
promises. 

Now, it is not to dispute the propriety of this conduct 
that I place it in this light. It is highly proper that all 
suffering Christians, whatever be the kind or degree of their 
trials, should take to themselves all the consolation which 
is to be found in the word of God. It is, however, equally 
proper that they should clearly understand their warrant 
and welcome to do so. For, it is not right because they do 
so; but because God allows it to be done. It will, there- 
fore, be best done by those who understand best the divine 
warrant for comforting themselves with the great and pre- 
cious premises. 

Look, then, at the facts of the case. These promises 
were made, in the first instance, to Christians whose lives, 
property, and reputation, were in constant peril because of 
their adherence to Christ. And yet these very promises 
you apply in your own case, under the natural diseases and 
decay of the body ; under the losses and crosses incident 
to the ordinary business of life ; under the vexations and 
sorrows inseparable from all human affairs. Now, where 
and what is your warrant for this appropriation of comforts 
which belonged, originally, to sufferers who were " a spec- 
tacle to the world and to angels ?" What right have you to 
draw from the sacred fountains which were opened to re- 
fresh martyrs and confessors ? Is it the lunacy of self-love 
that has betrayed you into a false estimate of your own im- 
portance ? Or, is it the love of God that has made " all 
the promises, yea and amen, in Christ Jesus," to all who 
love the Lord Jesus in sincerity, whatever be the kind or 
the degree of their afflictions ? 

This is the fact. Accordingly there is not one well- 
ordered covenant for slight sufferers ; and another better- 



220 COMMUNION WITH GOD 

ordered covenant for great sufferers ; but one " ordered in 
all things and sure," for both alike. For, however the 
spirit of God may have applied these strong consolations 
more sensibly and fully to the hearts of the martyrs, than 
he does now to our hearts, it was these consolations that he 
did apply. As it is the same pole-star in calm and in storm, 
on a wreck and in a new ship, that the seaman steers his 
course by — so it is the same light which shines from the 
promises upon all the afflicted children of God, whatever 
be the difference of their afflictions. " Were it not so, I 
would have told you" is an expression of the Saviour, which 
may well and safely be applied here. Indeed, " were it 
not so," another covenant, or an alteration of " the new cov- 
enant," would and must have been introduced when per- 
secution was withdrawn. But the consolations were not 
changed when the sufferings were changed. The scaffolds 
are fallen, but the covenant standeth fast ; the sword is 
sheathed, but the balm of Gilead is undiminished ; the flames 
are quenched, but the prospects of future glory remain un- 
diminished. These assertions require to be proved by facts 
and confirmed by reasons. Now, it is the fact — 

1. That believers sustain the same relation to God that 
the martyrs did. Christians did not cease to be the sons 
and daughters of the Lord God Almighty, when they ceas- 
ed to be the victims of persecution. Adoption remains the 
same under our "vine and fig-tree," where none dare to 
make us afraid, as under the cross, the stake, or the axe of 
martyrdom. All who love the Saviour are as much the 
children of God as the noble army of Martyrs. 

This is true even when we are not suffering under the 
mighty hand of God ; and surely it does not become untrue 
when we are under the rod. Chastisement is itself a proof 
of sonship. "If ye endure chastisement" says Paul, "God 
dealeth with you as with sons." 

Here, then, is the first ground which you should take 
in order to communion with God, when his fatherly hand 
presses heavily upon your spirits.. Its pressure does not 



IN AFFLICTION. 221 

disprove your sonship. Even its long continuance does 
not render your adoption doubtful. God does not cast off 
when he casts down. For wise and gracious purposes he 
•empoverishes many of the children and chastises them all ; 
but he never disinherits any of them. They may think, 
and even say, in the day of calamity, " Surely, God woidd 
not put such a bitter cup into my hand, if 1 were a child of 
his : surely, he would not contend so long and sharply if 
lie had put me amongst his children !" But all this is a 
mistake. The argument should run just the other way. The 
reverse is the truth, however difficult it may be to believe 
so at first. It is difficult, I readily grant. But, look again, 
and more fully, at your own case. Before this heavy trial 
came upon you, you ventured to hope that you were a child 
of God. Why 1 Your freedom from this affliction was no 
proof nor mark of sonship. Neither the case, nor the 
comfort, of your former circumstances, gave you any right 
or reason for cherishing the hope of adoption. According- 
ly, you did not think then that they did. Remember ; any 
hope you ventured to take up then, was founded entirely 
upon the work of Christ and the word of God. And had 
any one asserted or insinuated, at that time, that you were 
grounding the hope of sonship upon your temporal circum- 
stances, you would have disclaimed, with warmth, the un- 
worthy imputation, and affirmed that Christ was " all in all" 
in your hope. Well ; if easy circumstances had, thus, no- 
thing to do with the spirit of adoption when you began to 
enjoy it — what have trying circumstances to do with it ? 
It does not belong to prosperity, as such ; nor to adversity, 
as such. It is the fruit of faith in the atonement ; and the 
atonement is not altered in its essence or aspect, however 
the aspect of Providence may be changed. All your real 
ground for considering God as your Father, and for pouring 
out your heart to him, remains, therefore, the same as ever. 
Or, if there be any alteration in it, it is for the better • for 
you are warranted to put an interpretation upon your adver- 
sity, which prosperity will not often bear. The trials of 
19* 



222 COMMUNION WITH GOD 

believers are declared, by God, to be proofs of sonship ; 
but their worldly prosperity is never explained in this way. 
It is the fact — 

2. That the present sufferings of believers are sent for 
the same moral purpose as the persecution of the martyrs 
was permitted — by God. — Now, as far as that moral pur- 
pose terminated in themselves, it was, that "they might be 
partakers of his holiness" and thus conformed to the image 
of his Son. And as this is the grand and final purpose of 
God, in the case of all his children, he has left open to 
them all, the same " wells of salvation" that he laid open to 
the first believers. It is, therefore, because God is pursu- 
ing the same end, now, as then, that he continues to us all 
the original motives to holiness. It was endeared to mar- 
tyrs and confessors by the hope of eternal life — by the 
promise of sufficient grace — by the witness of the Spirit — 
and by the special presence of God. Without these, even 
their trials would not have produced true holiness. Neither 
racks nor flames would have purified their hearts, apart from 
the consolations of the gospel. 

It is not, therefore, entirely wonderful, that all the prom- 
ises remain, and hold equally good, in our case. They 
are wanted — they are indispensably necessary, if we are 
to be made partakers of the divine holiness. Nothing else, 
and nothing less, than the " good hope through grace," 
granted to the first believers, is sufficient to sanctify present 
or future believers. For sanctification is not the effect of 
affliction, any further than affliction sends us to the Word 
and Spirit of God. Indeed, affliction itself requires to be 
sanctified ; for its natural influence and inevitable conse- 
quence, when unaccompanied by the mighty working of 
the holy Spirit, are, to harden the heart. " Why should 
ye be stricken any more ?" said Isaiah, to the Jewish 
church, when they had vexed and grieved the Holy Spirit : 
" ye will only rebel more and more." 

Here, then, is another ground upon which communion 
with God may be renewed in your case. And it is as solid 



IN AFFLICTION. 223 

as holiness is essential. Now, you know and believe that 
without holiness no man shall see the Lord. And you feel 
that the strokes of his Providence are destroying both the 
power and the love of sin. You may be unhinged, and 
agitated, and almost overwhelmed, by your trials ; but they 
are not strengthening your besetting sin, nor lessening your 
hatred or fear of any sin. Whatever else be their effect 
upon you, they are not softening the aspect of evil, nor in- 
creasing your love to the world. The reverse is their ef- 
fect. The world seems to you a poor portion for your im- 
mortal soul ; and all sin is more than ever hateful. And 
are you afraid to pray ? Do you doubt the paternal aspect 
of your chastisement ? What ! holiness advancing — and 
you doubting your sonship ? Sin abhorrent — and you un- 
christianizing yourself 1 Why, if any thing be certain, it 
is that a soul dying to the world and sin is alive unto God. 
" In this the children of God are manifest.'' 1 

Consider! the salutary effect of your trials, in thus set- 
ting your heart against all that is hateful to God, proves far 
more in favour of your interest in the love of God, than 
your trials prove against it. You say, that you cannot re- 
concile them with an interest in the love of God. I say — 
that you cannot reconcile their holy influence with any 
suspicion of the hatred of God. But, what is my opinion 
on this subject ? God himself says, that " whom He lovetk 
He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth" 
Mark : he does not say that whom he loveth — he prospereth 
in the world; but whom he chasteneth. If, then, your af- 
flictions are producing the same holy effect as those pro- 
moted in the martyrs, by " great tribulation," you are as 
much warranted, as they were, to regard God as your God 
for ever and ever, and to calculate upon Him being your 
guide until death. 

Now, it is by believing this that you must regain your 
composure and freedom in prayer. You cannot regain 
them in any other way. For when the spirit of prayer is 
lost, under the mysterious dispensations of Providence, it 



224 COMMUNION WITH GOD 

can only be recovered by turning to the mystery of grace. 
And, according to that, things are never wrong, nor going 
wrong, with the soul, when the work of sanctification is 
going on. Now, it is not going back, because you are less 
composed, and more shaken than usual. Composure is, in- 
deed, a good thing in its proper place, and a good sign under 
certain circumstances : — but there is something better, both 
as a sensation and a sign ; and that is — a heart agitated and 
agonized by a sense of the evil of sin. For many things 
may produce a tranquil mind ; whereas it is only the Spirit 
of God that can create loathing and detestation against sin. 
Whoever, therefore, feels this, need not be afraid to com- 
mune with God as his own Father. Indeed, this itself is 
communion, or fellowship, in the very feelings which are 
the glory of his character — his love of holiness, and his 
hatred of sin. It is also the fact — 

3. That nothing less than the hope of the glory which 
is to be revealed, can reconcile or sooth the mind, even 
under the present trials of life and godliness. A hope full 
of immortality is as much wanted in a sick chamber, as it 
was in a Roman prison ; in poverty, as in spoliation ; in 
the loss of relations by death, as in their loss by martyr- 
dom. Perhaps more so, in one sense : for, in solitary or 
obscure affliction, there is no appeal made to our passions 
or senses ; whereas, martyrdom, by its publicity and splen- 
dour, was calculated to inspire no small share of the forti- 
tude it called for. But, however this may be, one thing is 
certain — that afflictions have not a sanctifying influence, 
nor are they well sustained, where there is not a well- 
founded hope of heaven. However strange it may be, 
therefore, in theory, that our inferior sufferings should have, 
or require, all the great and precious promises which were 
made to the first Christians, it is only the sober fact — that 
we do require them all, in order to possess our souls in 
patience. The prospect of heaven is not too bright, nor 
the consolation that is in Christ too strong, even in the day 
of our calamity. Whatever, therefore, might be theoreti- 



IN AFFLICTION. 225 

cally argued, to prove that less ought to suffice, now that 
there is far less to suffer, the fact is that less does not suf- 
fice. All experience demonstrates that there is neither true 
holiness, nor happiness, under calamity, but where there is 
a good hope, through grace, of an eternal weight of glory. 
Now, this is the hope which must inspire and sustain com- 
munion with God in the furnace. This hope must be in 
the midst of every furnace of affliction, as the Son of God 
was in the Babylonian furnace, if, like the three Hebrews, 
we would be free or unhurt. Our own reasonings against 
impatience, and the remonstrances of others against it, will 
not prevent nor suppress impatience. It has but one effect- 
ual antidote — the hope of eternal life. The prospect of 
better days, and better things, in this life, is not, indeed, 
without its influence ; but it is not in praying for them that 
the soul gets into communion with God. It is in praying 
for meetness for the inheritance of the saints in light, that 
we obtain true and transporting fellowship with him. 



No. XII. 

SACRAMENTAL COMMUNION WITH GOD AND 
THE LAMB. 

It is pleasing to remember how many, in all ages of the 
Christian church, have celebrated the death of the Saviour, 
at the sacramental table. That has never, indeed, been a 
crowded table, where the guests have been required to wear 
the " wedding garment ;" but neither has it ever been a for- 
saken table. Some were always as constant at the sacra- 
mental supper on earth, as they are now at " the marriage 
supper of the Lamb" in heaven. Many of them commemo- 
rated his death at the risk of their own lives. The moun- 
tain tops were not too cold, nor the caves of the wilderness 



226 SACRAMENTAL COMMUNION 

too damp, nor the tombs, at midnight, too dreary, for the 
first Christians, when persecution drove them to secret sac- 
raments. They loved their Lord ; and, therefore, testified 
their attachment to him at all hazards, and under all hard- 
ships. 

Such were the primitive believers. The world then 
thought them fools ; but, now, even the world itself applauds 
their heroism ; and remember them more than it does the 
guests who sat at the banqueting tables of the Belshazzars 
and Cesars of antiquity. It is pleasing to remember also, 
that there are now sacramental tables in many nations, 
where there was only " the tables of devils" then. When 
the first sacraments were celebrating in Judea and Greece, 
human sacrifices were prevalent and popular in Britain. 
Hallowed be the day, when \h.e first Christian sacrament 
was administered in the land of our fathers ! Its date is un- 
known : its place, unmarked ; its form, uncertain ; but its 
" sweet influences" have been incalculable. It was the 
" olive leaf," (whoever was the dove that brought it,) which 
proved that the flood of Druidism was subsiding. 

It is pleasing to remember also, that even since we be- 
came communicants there are many sacramental tables, 
where there was only the table of devils when we were 
born. There is now one in China — a few in India — and 
many in Africa and the South Sea islands. And still they 
are multiplying. They will become as general as the do- 
mestic table of families ; until all on earth vie with all in 
heaven, in " showing the Lord's death until he come." 

By thus remembering " the dead in Christ," and antici- 
pating the unborn who shall be given to Christ, we forget, 
in some measure, or rather get above, our own fears and 
trials. We thus feel ourselves to be a part of an immense 
army — the first companies of which are already crowned 
with victory ; and the last sure to be more than conquerors, 
by the blood of the Lamb. This identification is as useful 
as it is sublime. 

When a Christian thinks only of himself, and for himself, 



WITH GOD AND THE LAMB. 227 

he is easily discouraged, and feels, at times, ready to sink. 
But when he realizes himself as one of God's family, and 
as one of Christ's flock, and remembers how many are ar- 
rived at the kingdom in safety, and how many are with him 
in the wilderness — he sees and feels that he, too, may 
overcome. Whilst he looks only at himself, he can hardly 
conceive how everlasting wings should be over him, nor 
how he should be welcome to take shelter under them. 
But when he pauses to observe how many they shelter, 
and how widely they are expanded, he is encouraged to 
creep under their shadow. 

When he thinks only of himself, he can hardly see how 
the Saviour can take any lively or constant interest in him : 
nor how the Holy Spirit can bear with his infirmities : but 
when he pauses to consider, that the Great Shepherd's 
flock is too large to be forsaken by a good Shepherd, or f by 
a Spirit who is " the Comforter," he feels that, although the 
weakest of the lambs of that flock, he may yet share in its 
Shepherd's tenderness, and venture into all its green pas- 
tures, and up to all its still waters, in company. 

When he looks only at his own trials, he can hardly see 
how a special Providence should take up his case, or hold 
up his goings ; but when he pauses to consider how many 
have been guarded and guided, and how many needs as much 
guidance and guardianship as himself — they are both so 
many, that he feels, through all his soul, that the God of 
love is not likely to leave nor forsake them ; and thus he, 
too, ventures to cast all his care upon a wise and watchful 
Providence. 

It is thus also that he is encouraged, at times, to venture 
to the Lord's table. His own sense of unfitness and un- 
worthiness would keep him away, did not others, who con- 
fess the same, continue to come. Not that he gets over his 
fears by considering himself as good as others ; but he sees 
that the best of others have had similar fears ; and that, if 
they had yielded to them, they could never have become 
such exemplary Christians. He sees that there has been 



228 SACRAMENTAL COMMUNION 

an intimate and inseparable connexion between their growth 
in grace and their adherence to the sacrament. Nor 
can he overlook or forget the fact, that all that was bad 
has become worse, in the case of those who have given up 
sacraments. And thus these examples bring him to the point : 
" I may become," he says, " an apostate, by keeping away ! 
I may be established, strengthened, and settled, by keeping 
the feast." 

These are not, indeed, the highest motives for adhering 
to the sacramental table ; but they are legitimate and pow 
erful motives. So also is the consideration that your ab- 
sence may injure or pain others. For, by not communing 
with your brethren, you may prevent or mar their commun- 
ion with God. Some of them are sure to miss you, and 
almost as sure to be affected by it. Those, especially, who 
encouraged and welcomed you to the sacrament, and those 
also whom you may have encouraged and welcomed to it, 
cannot but wonder at your absence. They ought, indeed, to 
be better employed, than in thinking of an absent friend. 
The " Remembrance" of the Saviour ought to engross and 
absorb their whole soul. You feel and confess this. Do 
not, then, divide or divert their hearts from Him, by desert- 
ing them. Remember, how you would have felt, had you 
missed them, when you began to communicate ! And as 
their presence has often encouraged you, let your presence 
encourage them. 

There is more connexion between this tender regard to 
the feelings of others, and communion with God, than seems 
generally understood. Many appear to imagine, that it is 
of little consequence how they feel towards their brethren, 
at the sacrament, if they are not at open variance with them. 
That, it is generally acknowledged, is incompatible with com- 
munion with God. And, whether acknowledged or not, it is 
found to be so, both by offenders and the offended. Neither find 
much comfort or benefit at the Lord's table, whilst breaches 
or heart-burnings are unhealed. This loss of enjoyment is 
not, however, confined to alienated brethren. It is sustain- 



WITH GOD AND THE LAMB. 229 

ed by indifferent brethren also ; and in a degree that ought 
to startle them, even if they are unconscious of any studied 
indifference. For the sacrament is as much intended to 
promote the fellowship of the members with each other, as 
the fellowship of the body with the head. Indeed, the 
unbroken bread is as truly and intentionally an emblem of a 
united church, as the broken bread is of the crucified Sa- 
viour. It is not enough, therefore, to remember the Sa- 
viour, when we approach his table. He, of course, should 
be the supreme object of our attention ; but not to the ex- 
clusion of the people. A kind look or thought towards 
them, will not displease him, nor distract us. He is not 
jealous of brotherly love. 

We mistake sadly, when we imagine that we cannot af- 
ford to think at all of the church whilst w r e are at the sacra- 
ment. It is quite true, that we have each so much to think 
of in our own case, that it seems more than enough, at that 
time. Our own hearts are so unmanageable, that any con- 
cern for others appears both impossible and out of place, 
also when we are trying to commune with the Saviour for 
ourselves. But, what if a momentary identification of our- 
selves with our brethren should be the best way of getting 
into communion with the Saviour himself? — what if he 
who is " not ashamed to call them his brethren," hide his 
face from us, until we from the heart acknowledge them as 
our brethren ? This is not unlikely. Paul evidently held 
it to be certain, that, apart from being " rooted and grounded" 
in mutual love, believers could not " comprehend the heights, 
and depths, and lengths, and breadths, of the love of Christ." 
Now these are 

" The sweet wonders of the cross," 

that we desire to comprehend at the sacrament. But, apart 
from cherishing unfeigned love to the brethren, we are not 
warranted to expect any enrapturing or realizing manifest- 
ation of them. For, do remember — it is as much in con- 
vol. i. — 20 



230 SACRAMENTAL COMMUNION 

nexion with loving one another, as with loving himself, that 
the Saviour promises to " manifest" himself to his disciples, 

" This is the law of the house." And it is as reasonable 
as it is authoritative. You may have overlooked it hitherto, 
or not weighed it duly. But it is intimately connected with 
all the enjoyment which the sacrament is intended to pro- 
mote. And if you have wondered and wept, because you 
have often missed enjoyment at the sacrament, it is high 
time for you to search out the secret causes of your disap- 
pointment. 

Now, whatever other causes may have led to the loss 
of sacramental enjoyment, the want of a really " right spirit" 
towards your brethren is one cause of it. You may not, 
indeed, have behaved ill, nor carried yourself haughtily 
towards any of them. No one may have any just reason 
to complain of your conduct or spirit, as a communicant. 
You may be able even to appeal to all the church, and to 
the omniscience of its Head, that you injure no one, and 
despise no one. But whilst all this is very credible to you, 
and more than many can say for themselves, it is not all 
that devolves on you, even if you can add to it, that you 
never refuse to help the poor of the flock. All this may be 
done, without " charity." 1 Cor. xiii. 3. The real ques- 
tion to meet is, Do you love the brethren for the truth's 
sake which dwelleth in them, and because they are your 
brethren in Christ ? This is the grand apostolic reason 
for mutual love in the church. But if you love only a few, 
who happen to please you ; and them, chiefly, for what they 
are to you, rather than for what they are to Christ, you 
overlook this reason, and make yourself the centre of your 
affections. You may not intend to do this ; but it comes 
to this, if you care little or nothing about those who are not 
your personal friends. You ought, indeed, to love them 
who love you ; but you are equally bound to love all who 
love the Saviour. 

It will not do, in answer to this, to say, that you stand in 
doubt of some of your fellow-members. That may be your 



WITH GOD AND THE LAMB. 231 

own fault, in regard to some of them. They may be as 
worthy as yourself, if you knew them as well. And, in 
the case of those who are justly doubted, it is your duty to 
be faithful to them. If you know, to a certainty, that any 
nominal brother is an immoral man, you are as much bound 
to reprove him, and to bring the matter to an issue, as he is 
bound to reform. 

It is not necessary, however, to go into extreme cases. 
It is not from them, that the neglect of brotherly love springs 
chiefly ; but from our own inattention to the law of that 
love. Now, it is exceeding broad ! It embraces all the 
personal friends of the Saviour, just because they are his 
friends. You are bound to love them, because He has 
loved them, even as He has loved us ; and because they 
love him as sincerely as we do. Accordingly we should 
feel and admit the force of this claim at once, were we to 
sit down to an African or an Indian sacramental table. 
There — it would be impossible to look round upon a circle 
of brethren without a glow of brotherly love. Our hearts 
would thrill at the sight of so many brands plucked from 
the burning. We could not suppress our love to them, were 
we to try the experiment. We could not, by any effort, go 
into a cold and jealous calculation of their comparative rank 
or worth. All such considerations would be swallowed up, 
in the high consciousness that we were associated with the 
friends of Jesus. 

And are his friends less valuable at home ? Is there 
less of his love displayed in a church of British, than in a 
church of African, converts ? Why, then, do we not take 
an equal interest in the former ? 

The cases are not, indeed, parallel, in all respects. An 
African church is a novelty ; whereas a British church is 
almost a matter of course ; and we are too much the crea- 
tures of circumstances, to be as much affected by what is 
common as by what is uncommon. I readily grant, there- 
fore, that the appeal to our senses is not the same at home 
that it would be abroad. Any group of Africans or Indians, 



232 SACRAMENTAL COMMUNION 

would, however engaged, arrest our attention, and interest 
our feelings, more than the same number of our own coun- 
trymen, similarly engaged. Africans, themselves, would 
be less affected by the sight of a British church than we 
should by the sight of an African church ; — because they 
must, of course, regard it as only what might be expected 
in Britain. 

These concessions and distinctions ought to be made. 
But, after making them, thus fully and freely, there is still 
enough in the case, both to warrant and point an argument, 
on behalf of brotherly love at the sacrament. For, the ut- 
most that can be said of any church, in heathen lands, is, 
that " Christ loved them and gave himself for them? Their 
calling and election cannot be carried higher than to the 
purpose of God ; nor their redemption higher than to the 
blood of the Lamb ; nor their conversion higher than to the 
power of the Holy Spirit , and to this height, the salvation 
of all may be equally traced. There is, therefore, a defect 
in our spiritual discernment, whenever we look upon real 
converts, without real pleasure. For we should be delight- 
ed to meet the lowest of them in heaven ! There, we 
shall never think of what was their rank on earth. It will 
be enough to secure our love, there, that they were loved 
by our Father, and ransomed by our Saviour, and sanctified 
by our Comforter. Every believer we meet around the 
throne will be hailed and held as a "brother," because he is 
a " companion" in the New Song of the cross. Why, 
then, should it not be so on earth ? 

These are not the considerations which you expected to 
be most prominent, in an essay on sacramental communion 
with God and the Lamb. You, most likely, began to read 
it, in the hope that you might find some touching hints, 
which would warm or melt your heart ; and, thus, enable 
you to " go unto the altar of God," with more joy, or com- 
posure, than you could command when you were there last. 
Are you, then, disappointed? You ought not. to be so. 
You have, indeed, a right to expect that a minister, en- 



WITH GOD AND THE LAMB. 



233 



forcing and commending the sacrament, should, also, bring 
before you a full-orbed view of the great sacrifice which it 
commemorates. For that, being the chief thing, ought to 
have the chief place. Well ; just because it is the chief 
thing in the sacrament, I am intent on placing you in that 
spirit and position towards it, which are most in accordance 
with it. Now, that accordant disposition is, identification 
with all who are " heirs together," with you, " of the grace 
of life :" and that accordant spirit is, love to them as joint 
heirs of eternal life. 

It is, also, of great importance to bear in mind that mourn- 
ful sacraments are not useless. We are apt to regard 
these sad solemnities as sad disappointments ; and, if we 
miss enjoyment, to imagine that we have communicated in 
vain. But this is a mistake. 

Neither God nor the Lamb is dishonoured or displeased, 
nor are we unprofited, when sacraments do nothing but 
humble us. We have not come to the altar in vain, when 
we retire from it wondering that our blood was not mingled 
with our sacrifices. Nothing is useless that compels us to 
lay our " mouth in the dust, if so be there may be hope." 
And this is the effect of our sad sacraments. They lay 
us in the very dust of self-abasement. And, what is not 
less valuable, they make us feel through all our soul that 
we need more than ever to be watchful. For now that we 
cannot wring from our hearts one warm emotion, nor com- 
mand one holy feeling, how easily temptation might over- 
come or trials overwhelm us! The solemn questions — 
" Where will all this end ? — What has brought on this utter 
loss of first love?" — reveal, as they flash across our dark- 
ened spirit, dangers which make us tremble both at and 
for ourselves. Now, although such dread discoveries, like 
afflictions, are not joyous but grievous ; " nevertheless, 
afterward," they yield " the peaceful fruit of righteousness 
unto them who are exercised by them." 

When, however, there is a succession of sad or dull 
sacraments ; and when communicants, month after month, 
20* 



234 SACRAMENTAL COMMUNION 

retire from the altar of God, weeping or trembling; and 
where the desolation of soul cannot be traced to the in- 
dulgence of any bad habit or temper, there must, in such a 
case, be some misapprehension of the gospel. Now, the 
most prevalent mistake is that faith cannot work empty- 
handed ; or that the principle of it can work by love, even 
when it is not exercised in believing the promises of the 
God of love. Faith is, indeed, a principle and a vital one ; 
but (like the bee's power of making honey, which is of no 
use apart from the nectar of flowers) it cannot work by 
love without believing the motives to love. The bee can- 
not make honey from water, nor yet from the dew of the 
morning ; no more can faith extract comfort or hope from 
threatenings, or produce joy by dwelling on the dark side 
of things. We might just as well, and more wisely, ex- 
pect that our power of seeing should cheer us apart from 
looking ; or our power of hearing apart from listening, as 
expect that faith can comfort us apart from believing " com- 
fortable words." Why are we so prone to drop all our com- 
mon sense, when we try to exercise or examine our faith ? 
Whenever we want to be cheered by the power of seeing, 
we look abroad on the landscape of nature, or on the 
achievements of art, and dwell on their beauties and sub- 
limities until the eye affects the heart. We never gaze on 
vacancy, nor on deformity, when we wish to be delighted. 
In like manner, when we are intent on being cheered by 
the exercise of the power of hearing, we place ourselves 
where the groves are most melodious, or where the instru- 
ments are best toned, or where the voices have the most 
compass and variety ; and thus we prepare to enjoy music. 
All this is natural and necessary. And, is it not equally 
so, if we would be cheered by faith, to believe cheering 
truths ? We might as well roll our eyes in darkness, or fix 
them upon a blank, and then doubt their visual power, as 
judge of our faith whilst we abstain from trying to believe 
the glad tidings of salvation. This will never do, at the 
sacrament, nor any where else, that comfort is needed. 



WITH GOD AND THE LAMB. 235 

Wherever we come to God, we must believe that He is the 
rewarder of them that diligently seek Him. In no duty, 
and at no ordinance, can we be happy without believing the 
promises with which it is connected, and of which it is the 
pledge. And we are as welcome to embrace them, as to 
obey it. Now, we never doubt our obligation to obey the 
laws of God : but the moment Ave look at them, we feel 
bound by their authority, and awed by their sanctions. So 
we ought to judge and feel. We are not, however, more 
bound to revere them than we are welcome to believe the 
gospel. The promises are just as free to our faith, as the 
commandments are binding on our conscience. Conscience, 
without the law, would be an insufficient and unsafe guide ; 
and Faith, without the promises, would be a miserable 
comforter, and a fruitless principle. 



OR A 

GUIDE TO THE THOUGHTFUL. 



CONTENTS 



Page, 

I. The Duty of Realizing Eternity 237 

II. The Possibility of Realizing Eternity .... 249 

III. The Excuses for not Realizing Eternity .... 258 

IV. Nominal Faith, from not Realizing Eternity . . . 270 
V. Spiritual Declension, from not Realizing Eternity . . 280 

VI. Faith, believing unto Eternal Life .... 290 

VII. Eternity Realized in the Sanctuary 302 

VIII. Eternity Realized at the Sacrament .... 312 

IX. Eternity Realized at Home 323 

X. Christ, the Glory of Eternity . .... 335 



No. I. 

THE DUTY OF REALIZING ETERNITY. 

Did " Eternal Life" suggest to us only the bare idea of 
living for ever in an unknown world, it would deserve more 
attention than is usually given to heaven or hell. " The life 
that now is," is such an evanescent vapour, that " everlast- 
ing life," however deeply veiled as to its place or employ- 
ments, is a contrast which ought to arrest and rivet supreme 

237 



238 THE DUTY OP 

attention. The bare fact of immortality is fraught with 
instruction and warning. It has a commanding character, 
independent of its revealed character. For, as life involves 
thought, and feeling, and action ; an eternity of thinking, 
an eternity of feeling, an eternity of acting, is a solemn 
consideration ! It could not be weighed without profit. 
Who would not be improved, both in character and spirit, 
by arguing thus : — " I must think for ever ; would an eter- 
nal train of my usual thoughts be either worthy of me, or 
useful to me ? I must feel for ever ; would an eternal reign 
of my present spirit and desires please me ? I must act 
for ever ; would an eternal course of my habitual conduct 
bring happiness, or even bear reflection ?" 

We could not bring our tastes and tempers to this test, 
without improving both. The moment we realize an eter- 
nity of any vice or folly, we are shocked. To be eternally 
passionate, or eternally sensual, or eternally covetous, or 
eternally capricious, is a state of being which must be appal- 
ling and repulsive even to the victims of these vices. Thus, 
independent of all the light shed upon immortality by the 
gospel, immortality itself sheds strong and steady lights 
upon our personal interests and relative duties. Life in- 
volves, also, society, intercourse, and their natural results. 
Would, then, an eternity of the terms and temper of our 
present domestic and social life be altogether agreeable to 
us? Should we like to "live for ever," just as we now 
" live together" at home ? Would an eternity of our pres- 
ent feelings towards certain persons be either creditable or 
useful to us ? Should we be quite satisfied to obtain and 
deserve, for ever, no more respect than we now enjoy ? 
Would an immortality of our present relative condition 
please us ? Here, again, by realizing an eternity of social 
life, we catch glimpses both of duty and interest, which 
compel "great searchings of heart," and suggest many val- 
uable improvements of character. 

It would, then, be equally unwise and criminal, not to 
realize even a veiled eternity. It would be both moral and 



REALZING ETERNITY. 239 

mental weakness not to judge of our present character and 
pursuits — of our present spirit and habits — by their fitness 
and likelihood to please and profit us in a " world without 
end." What attention, then, is due to an unveiled and illu- 
minated immortality ; and, what an influence it. might have 
over us, if habitually realized as it is revealed ? It comes 
before us, in the gospel, as everlasting happiness in heaven, 
or as everlasting misery in hell; as an eternity in the pres- 
ence of God, and in the fellowship of all the godlike spirits 
in the universe ; or, as an eternity in the presence of " the 
devil and his angels," and in the society of all the impious 
and impure. Extremes, thus infinite and endless, deserves 
all the attention which law or gospel demands for them. 
Habitual remembrance of them would be imperative duty, 
if neither law nor gospel enforced it. Such an eternity 
makes many laws for itself. It is itself a law, and felt to 
be so when it is realized. For as Sinai awed the thou- 
sands of Israel, by its solemn aspect, long before the trum- 
pet sounded, so the very aspect of eternal bliss or wo ap- 
peals to the understanding and the conscience, by its own 
solemnity. 

Now we blame as well as pity, those who banish the 
consideration of this unveiled immortality. We are thank- 
ful that we are not so mentally weak, as to be incapable of 
reflecting on the things which are " unseen and eternal ;" 
nor so mortally infatuated as to be utterly unaffected by 
them. We had rather lose one of our bodily senses, than 
be wholly insensible to the glories and solemnities of the 
world to come. We see clearly, and often feel deeply, 
that without some just sense of them, there cannot be a 
due appreciation of the claims of the law or the gospel, nor 
of the duties of life and godliness. These have all such 
an express reference to eternity, that if we were to think 
and act without any pointed reference to it, we durst not 
give ourselves credit either for believing or for understand- 
ing truth and duty. 

This is well, so far. It is, however, one thing to be 



240 THE DUTY OF 

unable or unwilling to forget eternity ; and another, to cul- 
tivate the remembrance of it. We may not evade the pros- 
pect, when it is forced upon us by death in the family, or 
by appeals in the sanctuary ; but, do we invite it, for its 
own sake, when there is neither accident nor excitement 
to constrain our attention ? Is the contemplation of " the 
powers of the world to come," any part of our devotional 
and meditative habits 1 We voluntarily and conscientiously 
give some set time to prayer, and to self-examination, and 
to the study of the great principles of truth and duty. We 
do not allow our sense of them to depend entirely upon 
accident or excitement. We require, in order to keep up 
a good hope through grace, to examine and review the 
grounds of hope ; and, in order to maintain a good con- 
science towards God and man, we require to confront 
conscience, from time to time, with the claims of both. 
But, do we require, for own satisfaction and improvement, 
to set apart some time for the deliberate and distinct con- 
sideration of the claims of eternal life? They are, in- 
deed, mixed up in our minds with the other claims of 
religion and morality, and give some degree of force 
to both : but if they are rather admitted than meditated, 
rather taken for granted than weighed, we do not give 
that " good need" to them which they demand and deserve. 
The prospects of eternal life are revealed to us, that we 
may employ them to counterbalance the pressure of the 
sufferings and sorrows of" the life which now is." They 
were habitually employed for this purpose, by those who 
first believed that gospel which illuminated life and immor- 
tality. They did more than calculate, that all their trials 
were working together " for good." They reckoned, also, 
that their " affliction" was working for them " a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory." They realized 
heaven so as to be relieved and refreshed by the anticipa 
tions of it. But what in general, is our resource under 
suffering and sorrow ? Alas ! not this direct and distinct 
reckoning, that they are not " worthy to be compared with 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 241 

the glory which shall be revealed in us ;" but reckoning, 
that good will come out of them, and that we shall see 
better days " in the land of the living." Better days 
in the land of the dead, are not much desired by us whilst 
we have any rational hope of life. I mean — that it is not 
by them, chiefly, we balance our troubles, whilst death does 
not seem inevitable nor at hand. There is, in fact, some- 
thing dearer to us, at present, than heaven. We have 
no wish to be soon there, however much we desire or 
hope to be found there at last. Accordingly, the hope 
of glory is not often our chief consolation in the day of 
calamity. 

Now this proves more, than that our personal hope is 
often low and fluctuating. It proves, also, that we are not 
very familiar with the objects of future happiness. Indeed, 
one great cause of that lovvness and changeableness of our 
hope of heaven is, our inattention to heaven itself. It is 
not often nor minutely contemplated, exactly as it is set 
before us in the gospel. We do not overlook eternal things, 
but we do not " look at" them one by one, nor as a whole, 
sufficiently. We have no low nor foolish notions of heav- 
en, but we have many vague, and not a few uninfluential, 
ideas of it. The reason is obvious : we have not taken the 
same time or care to acquaint ourselves with it, that we 
have taken to form and mature our acquaintance in the way 
which leads to it. Our knowledge of " the way that leadeth 
to everlasting life" is not, indeed, perfect ; but still, it is in- 
fluential. We prize our deliberate views and convictions 
of the glory and grace of the atonement; we can make 
something of them, and sometimes much, in the day of 
trouble; and they tell well upon our character and spirit, 
even in the day of prosperity. So does our general idea 
of heaven ; but not so the details of our knowledge of it ; 
they have not much influence. How could they? The 
greater part of them have no fixed nor definite character or 
form in our minds. Were our views of the doctrine of 
grace as vague as many of our opinions about glory are, we 

vol. i. — 21 



242 THE DUTY OP 

should feel ashamed of ourselves, and be far more uncom- 
fortable than we are now. 

Whatever scrutiny or remonstrance breathes in these re- 
marks, is not uncalled for by the usual state of our minds. 
Slight views of eternal life, are one great cause of our 
slight hold on the hope of salvation. A deeper acquaint- 
ance with immortality, in all its revealed forms, would com- 
pel us to take and keep a firmer grasp of the cross. Were 
we daily " looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ 
unto eternal life" as well as unto a holy and tranquil life, 
both our faith and prayers would breathe another spirit than 
they usually do ; and thus we should soon have no occasion 
for the common complaint, that our hope of heaven is too 
weak to weigh much against the trials of life. Let eternity 
dictate the measure of faith in Christ which its own solem- 
nity deserves ; anl this will lead to such solid building, and 
to such steady resting upon the Rock of Ages, that we shall 
soon have a hope so full of immortality, that, like the first 
believers, we shall be able to counterbalance the things 
which are seen and temporal, by the things which are un- 
seen and eternal. And, surely, if the martyrs could do so, 
we well may, under our lighter afflictions. It is, therefore, 
our own interest to acquire such a hold upon heaven, as 
shall really be of use to us in the time of trouble. Nothing 
aggravates trouble so much as a dark cloud on our eternal 
prospects. We have need of all our time and strength for 
the due exercise of patience and resignation in the evil day, 
instead of having to clear up, then, the agitating question 
of personal safety. Let us not, therefore, believe the gos- 
pel so vaguely and vapidly now, nor obey the law so par- 
tially now, that when the dark side of the pillar of time 
turns upon us, the dark side of the pillar of eternity should 
turn upon us too. There is no occasion for such a conjunc- 
tion, as the fear of " the blackness of darkness," blending 
with the clouds of temporal calamity. 

We owe it also unto others to cultivate such a hope of 
glory, as shall have a visible influence upon our spirits, as 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 



243 



well as upon our character ; and upon our conversation, as 
well as our conduct. Without worth of character, no testi- 
mony to the worth of religion will have any weight in our 
family, or social circle. It is not enough, however, that 
both our careless and undecided friends should be con- 
strained, by our general character, to conclude, "that if 
any get to heaven we shall." Our words, as well as our 
works, should aid in lodging this conviction in their minds. 
We ought to speak of our " inheritance with the saints in 
light," as well as cultivate meetness for it. The first be- 
lievers not only thought of heaven, and prepared for it, they 
also avowed and proclaimed the pleasure they found in 
looking forward to it as rest from their labours, and as free- 
dom from their imperfections. They did not leave the in- 
ference of their safety to be drawn by others only; they 
drew it themselves also. They were wise enough, and 
manly enough, to judge, that a character and spirit which 
even the enemies of the gospel could not quote against the 
gospel, warranted them to consider themselves as heirs of 
eternal life. They did not, therefore, allow it to depend 
on the candour and conscience of others, whether this con- 
clusion should be drawn or not. It was too important to 
be left to public caprice ; and, therefore, they drew it them- 
selves. " We, according to his promise, look for new 
heavens and a new earth." " We know that if our earthly 
house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building 
of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heav- 
ens." " As we have borne the image of the earthly, we 
shall also bear the image of the heavenly." This was 
speaking cut, on the subject of Christian hope ! Yes ; and 
yet it was saying no more than God had warranted. It is 
only what all may and ought to avow, who are relying on 
Christ for a holy salvation. 

Now such a testimony, when not contradicted by the 
character of the witness, could not fail to commend the 
gospel. It would bring our relations and friends to the 
point. " Here," they must confess, " is present happiness, 



244 THE DUTY OF 

as well as a strong probability of eternal happiness." 
Whereas, if they see us in almost as much doubt of our 
future safety, as they are of their own, they will question 
the use of faith, even if they do not question the use of 
good works. 

Silence is, however, so common on this subject, and so 
characteristic of those who are most warranted to speak out, 
that it seems almost a virtue. We are so accustomed to 
entire silence, or to vague expressions, about personal ex- 
pectations of heaven, that we should be almost startled to 
hear even the best of our pious friends, who are neither old 
nor infirm, avow their pleasure or hope. There must be 
very eminent piety, indeed, in the person to whom we could 
listen, with common patience, whilst he was speaking of 
his own crown or mansion of glory. Free and firm state- 
ments of this kind, we should be ready to set down as 
ominous symptoms of a speedy death, whatever were the 
health, or the age, or the holiness of the person who made 
them. And, in our own case, and that of Christians in 
general, we should consider it a want both of humility and 
prudence, to utter our hopes of heaven, even when they 
are strongest. We act thus towards our nearest friends ; 
and in the case of the world, we are induced to say, that it 
would be casting "pearls before s,wine," to tell worldly men 
that we had found a title to heaven in the atonement of 
Christ. We almost give our " consent," that he who says 
so to others, before he is upon his death-bed, should be 
laughed at by the world, and suspected by the church. 

This is the current feeling on the subject now. It was 
not so in the olden time. Then, Christians comforted one 
another under their trials, with the comfortable words, " we 
shall meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we be ever with 
the Lord." And are we wiser or humbler than the first be- 
lievers ? Were they presumptuous or impudent when they 
said, in the presence of the world, " Blessed be the God 
and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, according to his 
abundant mercy, hath begotten us again unto a lively hope, 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 245 

by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an 
inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not 
away." Is this language, or our silence, most in harmony 
with the spirit of the gospel ? Was their triumph, or is our 
timidity, the best way of commending the gospel ? One 
thing is certain — their rejoicing in Christ Jesus, and in the 
hope of eternal life, had a mighty influence, both in ex- 
plaining and endearing the gospel to their friends and neigh- 
bours. Even their persecutors often dropped the sword, the 
axe, and the torch of martyrdom, overcome by the holy 
triumphs of the martyrs, and suffered with the victims they 
came to destroy. 

But these were extraordinary times! True. The gospel 
is, however, the same in our " day" that it was in their 
" yesterday." And, whatever higher degree of glory we 
are willing to concede to the martyrs and confessors, we 
expect the same heaven. And shall we be ashamed to say 
so ? Can our silence do good to ourselves, or to any one 
else 1 It will certainly never be an effectual check to An- 
tinomian boasting. If that " unclean spirit" is ever cast 
out of the churches, it must be by the prevalence of a hope 
as full of immortality as of good fruits. For, until believers 
acquire and acknowledge as much comfort from the revealed 
will of God, as Antinomianism pretends to furnish from the 
secret purposes of God, the boasting will go on. The si- 
lence of believers, has, in fact, done much to create and 
keep up the loquacity of that system. Its high pretensions 
are just the opposite extreme of our silent and low hopes. 
Antinomians say too much, and we say too little ; and thus 
we furnish them, however unintentionally, with plausible 
arguments against our principles. 

This is not a light matter. We are held up as being 
legalists, and unbelievers, and traitors to the doctrines of 
grace. Now, any one can despise this charge ; or, by 
argument, refute it. It has often been triumphantly refuted 
and retorted. But, still it is kept up. And, O say not, 
" What does it signify ?" nor, " Who cares what Antinomians 
21* 



246 THE DUTY OF 

think or say . ? " It does signify and we ought to care ; for 
the charge is founded, chiefly, upon our acknowledgments 
of doubt, and suspense, and want of comfort in religion ; 
and it is not answered when we say, that our low hopes 
prove nothing against our principles. This is, indeed, true ; 
but it is equally true, that our low hopes, and frequent lack 
of comfort, prove that we, in some way or degree, misap- 
prehend the gospel. For, as Christ expressly and repeat- 
edly declares, that whosoever believeth on him " hath ever- 
lasting life, and shall never perish ;" and, as we profess to 
believe on him, it is not altogether unfair nor unnatural, if 
those who see little and hear less of our hope of salvation, 
should both think and say that unbelief lies at the bottom of 
our silence and suspense. Indeed, they are right when 
they say so. They are far wrong when they call us unbe- 
lievers; but not very far from the truth when they charge 
us with unbelief. We certainly do not believe that we 
"have eternal life," when we indulge or express the fear 
of perishing. That hope, and this fear, are incompatible. 
The fear is not, indeed, incompatible with, faith, but it is so 
with hope. John recognised, as true believers, those who 
did not know, for a time, that they had eternal life ; and 
wrote to them that they " might know" that they had it. 
(1 John v. 13.) But he also told them, that " He that feareth 
is not made perfect in love ; for perfect love casteth out 
(tormenting) fear. 

For our own sake, therefore, and for the sake of others, 
and " for the truth's sake," we are solemnly bound to cherish 
such a hope of eternal life, as shall endear the gospel to 
ourselves, and commend it to others. But this we never 
can do, if eternal life itself is not made the subject of delib- 
erate and devotional contemplation. Hasty, and partial, 
and occasional glances at heaven, will not call forth strong 
faith, nor bring into our minds such " forms of glory" as can 
delight the soul in the day of adversity, or sanctify it in the 
day of prosperity. Eternal things are unseen things, and 
therefore not to be apprehended or appreciated at once. 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 247 

Like the invisible God, they require us to " acquaint" our- 
selves with them. Now, as it is not the vague notion of 
God which is afloat in the world that awes or animates our 
minds ; but his revealed character as God in Christ, and 
that, viewed in all its attributes, and often thought of ; so it 
is not the vague and meager notion of heaven as a mere 
place of safety from hell, that can either set our affections 
on things above, or sooth us amidst the vicissitudes of 
things on the earth. We must meditate on the character 
of eternity, as we have on the character of God — deeply, 
frequently, voluntarily, if we would be influenced by it. In 
like manner, whatever love we have to an unseen Saviour 
was not derived, and is not sustained, from the superficial 
ideas of him which are afloat in the world ; but from views 
of his person and work, drawn from the divine testimony, 
compared with the opinions of the apostles and prophets, 
harmonized with the songs of angels and glorified spirits, 
and often tried upon the fears of our heart and the wounds 
of our spirit. Thus, whatever just and influential estimate 
we have formed of the divine favour, it has been drawn 
from scriptural views of the divine character. We set our- 
selves to think over the character of God and the Lamb, 
until it awake some hope, and even some love, in our minds. 
And now, we can set our knowledge of God and the Lamb 
against many of our fears and trials, with some success. 
Our convictions of the divine wisdom enable us to wait with 
some patience for " the end of the Lord" in our trials. And 
our convictions of the divine faithfulness, keep the promises 
precious in our estimation, even whilst they are not much 
fulfilled in our experience. 

Here, then, there is some happy accordance between the 
influence which the invisible God and Saviour have over us, 
and that influence which they had over the first believers. 
We are, in some measure, of " one spirit" with them, in 
bringing the perfections of God and the blood of the Lamb 
to bear upon our hopes and fears. Why, then, are we so 
unlike them, in reckoning that the sufferings of the present 



248 THE DUTY OF 

time, are not worthy to be compared with the glory which 
shall be revealed in us ! It is needless to ask, why do we 
not "desire to depart and be with Christ ;" nor, why do we 
not " groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with our 
house which is from heaven ?" These questions would be 
evaded. But let us not evade the inquiry. Why have eter- 
nal things such a small place in our thoughts and conversa- 
tion, compared to the "large room" they had in the hearts 
of the primitive Christians ? We not only can make but 
little practical use of the prospects of heaven, but we are 
ashamed to speak, and often afraid to think of them. We 
might really dislike heaven, so little do we say about it ; or 
be indifferent to it, so seldom do we set ourselves to con- 
template it. 

It is not, therefore, at all wonderful, however lamentable 
it may be, that we turn more to the doctrine of a present 
Providence for relief in the day of trouble, than to the doc- 
trine of future glory. We have studied the former more 
than the latter. Had Providence engaged our attention as 
seldom and sprightly as eternity has done, it would have 
had even less place in our minds, and less influence on our 
character, that eternity has. What, then, would be the 
happy effect of giving, for a time, such " good heed" to the 
whole doctrine of immortality, as we have done to the doc- 
trines of grace and Providence ? The revelation of glory 
will not divert us from the revelation of grace. The time 
required in order to our being well informed concerning the 
crown, will not render us ill affected towards the cross. A 
fair and full view of heaven will not cut any of the natural 
links of life, nor alienate the heart from any of the duties of 
life or godliness. These may be eclipsed for a moment by 
the superior claims of eternity ; but, as in the eclipses of 
the sun and moon, the shadows will soon pass off, and leave 
all proper things in their proper place and power. There 
is no danger of so realizing the things which are unseen and 
eternal, as to forget the things which are seen and temporal. 
The danger is, lest the latter displace the former. 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 249 

No. II. 

THE POSSIBILITY OF REALIZING ETERNITY. 

Whilst there is nothing we more readily admit than the 
grandeur and solemnity of eternity, there is, perhaps, no- 
thing we are more reluctant to dwell on. We have, indeed, 
no objection to hear, occasionally, a well-timed and solemn- 
toned appeal to the awful realities of eternity ; nor do we 
dislike those occasional gleams of it which flash upon our 
spirit when we are communing with God in prayer. We 
are rather pleased, than otherwise, to feel now and then 
that we are not insensible to the glories of heaven and the 
terrors of hell, nor altogether uninfluenced by them. In- 
deed, we should question both the soundness and the sin- 
cerity of our faith, if it never realized " the things which 
are unseen and eternal," except when it was forced to do 
so by ministerial and providential appeals. Thus the sub- 
ject has upon its side our understanding entirely, and our 
conscience too in no small degree. 

This is, so far, well. It does not, however, disprove the 
assertion, that we are reluctant to cultivate realizing views 
of eternity. Deliberate efforts to acquire and keep up a 
solemn sense of eternal things are very rare : and not at all 
equal, in kind or degree, to the efforts we make in order to 
maintain a becoming sense of the evil of sin and the neces- 
sity of holiness. We are even afraid of an abiding impres- 
sion of eternity ; and suspect, if not believe, that it would 
throw a gloom over life, and turn seriousness into sadness. 
This lurking suspicion is not dislodged, nor much shaken, 
even when we remember that it is on the bright side of the 
pillar of eternity we are invited to dwell. We cannot for- 
get that it has a dark side too, which may turn upon us 
oftener than we should like. And we see, with some clear- 
ness, that even on its bright side, we should be kept more 



250 THE POSSIBILITY OP 

familiar with death than we wish to be at present. We can 
hardly conceive it possible to think much of eternity, with- 
out thinking too much about death ; they are so closely as- 
sociated in our minds. The latter appears to us the dark 
shadow of the former, even when the former is brightest. 

Thus there is against the habit of looking daily to eternal 
things all the natural and acquired force of our love of life, 
and of our fear of death. The claims of immortality pre- 
sent themselves to us, pointing to the grave, and muttering 
our mortality. We believe that Jesus Christ brought im- 
mortality to light ; but, somehow, we feel that it is the king 
of terrors who holds up the prospect to us. Our "last ene- 
my," rather than our best friend, is most seen, in connexion 
with our glimpses of the invisible world. 

There are also causes of reluctance, which are more dis- 
creditable to us. We see, at a glance, that an habitual sense 
of eternity would impose and compel more self-denial, or 
self-control, or self-examination, than we altogether like. 
We feel, instinctively, that certain tempers and tendencies, 
if not some habits also, would require great and immediate 
improvements, if they were confronted from day to day with 
the claims of Heaven. Every aspect of immortality is so 
full of solemn protests against all compromises with the flesh 
and the world, that even the most exemplary cannot but see 
clearly, and feel deeply, that they are not altogether that 
" manner of persons" which, as heirs of immortality, they 
ought to be. 

These are not imaginary nor slight causes of that shrink- 
ing from the realization of eternity which is so common. 
We are eagle-eyed in discerning how a habit of realizing 
would bring all our habits, public, domestic, and secret, 
under solemn revision and stricter discipline ; and, thus, 
whatever is bad in our nature and character, as well as all 
that is weak in them, is averse to the duty, because it in- 
volves so many other duties. 

It is this, much more than the difficulty of forming clear 
views of invisible realities, that prevents us from looking 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 251 

often to the things which are unseen and eternal. There 
are, indeed, mental hinderances, but they are neither so many 
nor so great as the moral hindrances. This is self-evident 
from the single fact, that we understand enough of the na- 
ture both of heaven and hell to make and keep us intent upon 
reaching the former and escaping the latter. Our know- 
ledge of them is not so dim nor indefinite, as to prevent us 
from prizing the great salvation. Were we, therefore, as 
intent upon present deliverance from all wrong habits and 
tempers, as upon future escape from the wrath to come, we 
should find our knowledge quite as sufficient to induce 
greater holiness, as it is to endear the cross. It looks ill, 
therefore, when we, who never complain or pretend, that 
our views of eternity are either too few or feeble to endear 
the atonement, pretend that we know too little of it to live 
under its direct influence. This does not tell well. That 
which binds us to the cross, notwithstanding all its myste- 
ries and all its odium, could not fail, if equally applied to 
universal holiness, to bind us to it also. Besides, (and let 
the fact prevent for ever, in our case, all attempts to shelter 
aversion under the wing of ignorance,) we hope to die in 
triumph or tranquillity, upon the faith of what we know of 
heaven, both as a state and as a place. We are sure, and 
must confess, that if we can only enjoy then, all that we can 
anticipate and understand now, we shall not be strangers to 
comfort or composure when we come to exchange worlds. 
Away, then, with the pitiful pretence that our ideas of fu- 
ture glory are too indefinite to have an habitual influence 
upon our present character and spirit : they are, by our own 
acknowledgment, distinct enough, and numerous enough, 
to " turn the shadow of death into the morning," even when 
heart and flesh are failing. Surely, therefore, they are ade- 
quate, if honestly applied, to make all sin appear " exceed- 
ing sinful," and all holiness " altogether lovely." 

Nothing is more unfounded (as will hereafter be shown) 
than the pretence that we know what heaven is not, rather 
than what it is. This is a poor compliment to Him, who 



252 THE POSSIBILITY OP 

" brought life and immortality to light, (illuminated them,) 
by the gospel." It is an equally mean and meager com- 
mentary on this sublime fact, to say, that the future state is 
chiefly revealed to us by negatives. Both heaven and hell 
are revealed in the same way, and almost to the same ex- 
tent, as the perfections of God, or the person and work of 
the Saviour. Negatives are as much used in explaining 
their character, as in depicting the invisible world, and are, 
in general, as useful, on both subjects, as the most positive 
information. We might, therefore, just as well say, that we 
do not know enough of God or the Lamb to think much 
about them, as say that we know too little of eternal things 
to think much about them. We do not, indeed, know all 
the truth concerning either, nor comprehend all that is re- 
vealed ; but both are alike adapted to our capacity, and 
equally distinct. Accordingly, the claims of heaven upon 
our attention and affections, are as fully stated as the claims 
of the law or the gospel • and, what is more, the claims of 
God and the Lamb are chiefly enforced by the glories and 
terrors of eternity : facts which demonstrate that there is 
no lack of light, whatever lack of looking there may be. 

It is not much wiser to refer to the weakness of our minds, 
when the duty of looking to the things which are unseen 
and eternal, is enforced upon us. It is, indeed, very plausi- 
ble, and seems very humble, to ask, " What can we make 
of such a subject as eternity ? We are lost the moment we 
attempt to realize it ! Even in its barest form — that of end- 
less duration — it defies all our calculations. We are no 
nearer to the comprehension of it, when we think of count- 
less myriads of millions of ages, than when we think of 
countless moments. Like infinity, it has its centre every- 
where ; but its circumference nowhere. What then is the 
use of trying to comprehend the incomprehensible ?" 

All this, however, is equally true of God and the Lamb ; 
but we never ask, what is the use of trying to realize their 
incomprehensible glories. We feel it to be both our duty 
and interest, to try what can be made of them, by meditation 



RE A LIZI N G ETERN ITY. 253 

and prayer. We confess and rejoice, that the divine char- 
acter sometimes opens on the mind, in such light and love- 
liness, such power and glory, that we are amply repaid for 
all the time, and thought, and prayer, which led to these 
discoveries. We know, that still brighter discoveries would 
be the certain reward of a more devotional spirit. We have 
told our souls, on retiring from some secret interviews with 
God, that they were for ever without excuse, if ever they, 
doubted the fact or the felicity of communion with God, or 
ever grudged the time required for it. Even these passing 
hints awaken recollections of times of refreshing from the 
presence of the Lord, which compel us to exclaim, " O, 
that it were with me as in months past, when the secret of 
God was upon my tabernacles, and his candle shined on 
my head." Let, therefore, these experimental facts answer 
the question — what is the use of trying to comprehend the 
incomprehensible 1 

Besides, what is it, in eternal glory, that is so very in- 
comprehensible ? We ourselves have not spent so very 
much time or thought upon the subject, as warrants us to 
pronounce it inconceivable ; and the books written upon it, 
are neither so many nor so meager as to prove that little can 
be made of it. Baxter's Saints' Everlasting Rest, and 
especially his Dying Thoughts, are not failures. Drexelius 
was too ignorant of the gospel to succeed ; and Cayley too 
quaint; and Wei wood too fanciful. Besides, like the 
present work, all these books are too small to determine 
the real capabilities of the subject. They only prove, when 
compared with our standard works on other lofty topics, 
how little has ever been attempted on this one, is it not 
evident, that if we had nothing more elaborate and profound 
on the subject of the divine character and government ; of 
the glory and grace of the atonement ; of the nature and 
effects of divine influence ; there would be less interest 
taken in these cardinal points than there now is ? Can any 
thoughtful man doubt, that, if Baxter's time and thought 
had been equally divided between eternity and controversy ; 

vol. i. — 22 



254 THE POSSIBILITY OF 

Owen's, between it and doctrine ; Howe's, between it and 
discussion ; Doddridge's, between it and experience ; Jere- 
my Taylor's, between it and casuistry ; we should have 
had works on Eternity, as valuable and sublime as the other 
master-pieces of these master-spirits ? They would, of 
course, have all failed to define everlasting duration, and 
to specify the precise character of the " fulness" of heaven- 
ly engagements or enjoyments. What then? A definition 
of eternity would not be of much use, if we had one ; and, 
therefore, the impossibility of grasping the idea of never- 
ending duration, is a poor apology for not trying to realize 
eternal things. The mental effort of measuring " everlast- 
ing" is not the exercise we are called to engage in ; nor is 
it one that could lead to any spiritual result, even if we 
were qualified to make that effort. 

In like manner, the usual objections founded upon the 
general . character of invisible things, are more plausible 
than weighty. For, what if we cannot map out the land- 
scape of heaven ? We know that it is " Emmanuel's land," 
our " Father's house," the temple and the throne of " God 
and the Lamb." There is surely enough in all this both to 
instruct and delight, however little we can make of its sea 
of glass or its river of life. What if we ought not to attach 
material ideas to its crowns, or palms, or harps ? They 
are tokens of divine favour, and of the joy that springs from 
that favour ; and these are ideas equally simple and sublime. 
What if we can form no idea of the precise order in which 
the " general assembly" are arranged around the throne ? 
They are around the throne where Deity reigns in unveiled 
glory! — a fact so distinct and transporting, that the mind 
which will dwell on it for a moment, will feel incapable of 
giving a thought to the childish question of local arrange- 
ments. The armies of heaven are in the immediate pres- 
ence of " the God of order." That is enough. What, 
also, if we can form no idea of the precise way in which 
angels and the redeemed interchange their knowledge, and 
reciprocate their enjoyments, nor of the way in which God 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 255 

and the Lamb communicate their will and feelings to both? 
There is communion between saints and angels, and be- 
tween the Godhead and both. And, as it must be in a way 
worthy of the majesty of the divine nature and character, 
and becoming the intelligence of perfect spirits, questions 
about speech or language are really unworthy of such a 
subject. For, could we answer them, the knowledge of 
the forms and mediums of mental communication, could add 
little to the grandeur of the fact, that there is communion 
with God and with each other. What, also, if we can 
neither tell nor conceive, whether all things in heaven and 
throughout the universe will remain for ever, exactly as 
they will subsist at the consummation of time ; or whether 
the cycles of eternity will witness the creation of new 
worlds, and new orders of beings, and the establishment 
amongst them of new systems of moral probation ? We 
know what is better — that God will " rest in his love" to 
all the redeemed. No event will ever occur to alienate his 
heart, or hide his face, or divert his attention from them. 
Whatever new creations may arise in the universe, they 
will not displace the church from her rank in his esteem. 
Whatever order of angels or worlds may outstrip the rest 
in the career of improvement, they will never eclipse her ; 
yea, whatever possible modification of moral government 
may be introduced into any possible creation, the mediato- 
rial, under which the church of Christ was performed and 
perfected, will remain eternally the glory of the divine ad- 
ministration. " We shall be for ever with the Lord," what- 
ever other beings may be brought into existence ; and for 
ever nearest to him, whatever new relations he may sustain 
to new worlds. He will die no more, he lives for ever, 
and, therefore, they must be for ever dearest to him, for 
whom he shed his blood. 

There may be no events of that kind to diversify the ages 
and bliss of eternity. The supposition of them is not, how- 
ever, rash nor improbable. And one thing is certain, if 
variety ever be wanted in order to perpetuate or promote 



256 THE POSSIBILITY OP 

the happiness of heaven, there is space enough in infinity 
for all the worlds and systems which omnipotence can 
create, should every age of eternity by marked by a new 
creation as vast as the old. 

But to close this series of questions — what if we cannot 
now realize either the precise kind or degree of our know- 
ledge in heaven. We are sure that it will be satisfactory, 
both in kind and degree. It will impart and prolong " ful- 
ness of joy ;" — and what more could we wish ? We nat- 
urally advert, when we think of heavenly knowledge, to 
the mystery of the divine essence ; and wonder whether 
we shall understand the unity of the Trinity. Few, per- 
haps, have felt more curiosity on this point than myself. I 
have so often dwelt upon this question, that I am actually 
ashamed of the degree in which it has occupied my atten- 
tion. For, however desirable or pleasing it might be to 
understand this mystery, it is self-evident, when we pause 
to reflect, that even the perfect knowledge of it could not 
add much to our enjoyment. It would rather gratify our 
curiosity than increase our happiness. Indeed, its moral 
bearings upon present or future bliss are any thing but ob- 
vious. Not that I am indifferent to such knowledge, nor 
underrate it ; but when I ask myself, how it would profit 
me, I must say that I cannot answer the question. I can- 
not but see, that even if I understood all mysteries, and 
this one most, I should still have to find my happiness in 
the character of God. The comprehension of his essence, 
however full and clear, could not answer the same moral 
purposes as the comprehension of his love, his wisdom, or 
his faithfulness. And as there is no doubt but these will be 
know r n and enjoyed in perfection, I must say to myself and 
to others, that we should sustain no spiritual loss were this 
mystery to be as eternal as it is now entire. 

I do not, however, think that it will be so. The assurance 
that " we shall know, r even as we are known," pledges, if 
not open vision on the subject, such a degree of light as 
shall render the union of Father, Son, and Spirit, in the 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 257 

one Godhead, as obvious as the union of soul, body, and 
spirit in our own one person. But as it will not be from 
knowing the points where the latter blend, nor the nexus of 
their unity, but from the intellectual and moral powers thus 
produced and perfected; so, whatever be the light thrown 
upon the unity of the Trinity, our chief confidence and 
delight in the Godhead must spring from its moral perfec- 
tions, and not from its physical properties. In a word — we 
shall know all that finite intellect can enjoy or bear ; and, 
surely, there is range enough in that wide and warm circle 
of light, to render the anticipation of the perfect day of 
eternity equally pleasing and profitable. 

Thus there is really less difficulty in conceiving of in- 
visible things, than appears at first sight. The current ob- 
jections against trying to realize them are not so formidable 
as they are plausible. They are, in fact, rather the sug- 
gestions of sloth, that the convictions of reason ; and far 
less derived from baffled effort to comprehend, than from 
reluctance to meditate. 

I must now say distinctly, that I have a very mean opin- 
ion of all the ordinary excuses, put forward to palliate or 
explain the slight attention given to eternal things. I feel 
thus, especially, in reference to the wrath to come. When 
that is dwindled into a question about the materiality of 
everlasting burnings, both the head and the heart do them- 
selves little credit. For, whatever unquenchable fire, or the 
deathless worm, may literally mean, they can mean nothing 
good — nothing easy — nothing temporary Besides, to a 
mind rightly exercised and disposed, there is surely more 
than enough to awe it, and to fix its awe, in the single fact, 
that hell is " the wrath of God and the Lamb." There can 
be no great soundness of judgment nor justness of feeling, 
where the impression of this solemn fact is defeated or 
weakened by curiosity. It does, therefore, appear to me 
one of the deceits of the human heart, if not one of the 
wiles of Satan, when our thoughts entangle themselves with 
the minute details of future misery, and thus escape from 
22* 



258 THE EXCUSE3 FOR NOT 

the awful and obvious truth, that it is " everlasting destruc- 
tion from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of 
his power." Yes ; hell is this, whatever else it is, and 
whatever else it is not. Of what consequence then is the 
question, what else is hell, seeing it is this? O, did we 
estimate things according to their real or their relative im- 
portance, there is in this one view of the wrath to come, 
such definite and appalling terrors, that even a momentary 
glance at them, if given daily, could not fail to keep us 
fleeing from that wrath, and clinging with a death-grasp to 
the cross, as the only refuge from it. 



No. III. 

THE EXCUSES FOR NOT REALIZING 
ETERNITY. 

However natural it may be to prefer the prospect of im- 
mortality to the horrid idea of annihilation, it is certainly 
neither natural nor common to think often of immortality. 
It is not so attractive to us as annihilation is repulsive. We 
dislike the bare idea of coming to such an end as "the 
beasts which perish ;" but we do not, proportionably, love 
the bright hope of being " as the angels of God in heav- 
en." We do not turn to the latter with the promptness or 
spirit that we turn away from the former. Indeed, our re- 
luctance to speak or think much of immortality is almost as 
great as our aversion to annihilation. This is a strange in- 
consistency ! We loathe the extinction of our being, and 
yet shrink from dwelling on the eternity of it. This would 
be very inconsistent, even if the gospel did no more than 
proclaim redemption from the hell it reveals, without at all 
describing the heaven it promises. Mere escape from 
everlasting misery, to eternal life of any other kind, and in 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 259 

any other place, would deserve more consideration than we 
usually give to our " Father's house." 0, yes ; were we 
never to see God as he is, nor the Lamb in his essential 
glory, never to see the throne nor the temple of Deity; 
never to behold one angel, nor to hear one anthem of the 
heaven of heavens ; even the bare prospect of not being 
under the wrath of God and the Lamb, would be worth 
more attention and gratitude than we commonly pay to the 
full-orbed prospect, of being for ever with the Lord, and 
with all who are the Lord's. Indeed, if the gospel were 
utterly silent on the subject of heaven, and said nothing 
else to commend or enforce its own claims, but just that, 
by believing and obeying it, we should escape the abode of 
" the devil and his angels," it would be glad tidings of great 
joy, and worthy of all acceptation. But this is not the 
gospel, nor yet like it. It opens heaven as fully as it un- 
covers hell. It says quite as much to render heaven allu- 
ring, as to render hell alarming. 

It is not, therefore, owing to any defect in bliss or glory, 
nor to any deficiency of information concerning them, that 
we meditate so seldom and slightly upon them. The Old 
Testament saints, who knew far less of these eternal real- 
ities than we do, realized them far more than we do. This 
is no gratuitous compliment to their heavenly-mindedness. 
God, who cannot lie nor err, has expressly testified that 
their life and conversation " declare plainly" that they de- 
sired " a heavenly country," and " looked for a city which 
hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." Why 
is it, then, that, in general, we are reluctant to dwell upon 
the prospects of a glorious immortality ; and that we re- 
quire to plan, and watch, and pray, and resolve, before we 
can at all enter into the spirit of heavenly contemplation ; 
and, that we do not always succeed, even when we make 
an effort to pass within the veil ? It is very pitiful when 
this question is answered by the cold remark, " We know 
too little of heaven to think much about it. We rather 
know what it is not, than what it is. It is chiefly described 



260 THE EXCUSES FOR NOT 

by negatives" Negatives ! True ; buc they are glorious 
negatives. No night ! no death ! no sin ! no suffering or 
sorrow ! This is what heaven is not. And is all this too 
little to furnish matter for frequent and profound medita- 
tion 1 Sin cannot be a very oppressive burden to the mind 
that takes no pleasure in contemplating eternal freedom 
from the very being, as well as from the love and power of 
sin. Ignorance, and liability to mistake and err, cannot be 
very irksome to the mind that is not delighted with the 
prospect of seeing " face to face" all the things which we 
" now see through a glass darkly." Pain and death can- 
not be much felt or feared, nor the vicissitudes of life much 
reckoned on, where the prospect of "no more curse" has 
little or no attraction. It is, therefore, very pitiful, when 
the negatives of revelation are appealed to, as reasons for 
not looking much to the things which are unseen and eter- 
nal. Were any of the lowest of these negatives to become 
true of any place in this world, that place would soon be 
attractive and popular. The discovery of a country in 
which there was no pain, or no sickness, would be a theme 
of enthusiastic congratulation. Such a place would soon 
be crowded ; and even those who stayed at home would be 
unable to forbear from thinking of it, although it were 
described only by negatives. Such a negative as " no suf- 
fering," would be held to be a positive good, and be hailed 
with general gratitude. And, as heaven is the entire and 
eternal negation of all evil, natural and moral, they evince 
little mind, and less conscience, who excuse their inatten- 
tion to it by the pretence, that " we know what it is not, 
rather than what, it is." 

It is also common to put forward a better excuse in a 
worse form ; because an unscriptural form. How often are 
both speaking and thinking, abruptly broken off, by quoting 
the words of Paul, " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which 
God hath prepared for them that love him." This too is 
pitiful, whether it arise from ignorance or inattention ; for 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 261 

Paul immediately adds, " But God hath revealed them unto 
us by his Spirit." 1 Cor. ii. 9, 10. This the apostle re- 
peats with triumph: "Now we have received not the spirit 
of the world, but the Spirit which is of God, that we might 
know the things which are freely given vs of God ; which 
things also we speak." So far, therefore, is the apostolic 
argument from being an apology for not attempting to realize 
heaven, that it is, in fact and intention, a strong reason for 
looking much and often to the joy set before us. Well 
might Baxter say : " Think on the joys above as boldly as 
Scripture hath expressed them. To conceive of glory, 
only as above our conception, will beget little love ; or, as 
above our love, will produce little joy." Baxter, indeed, 
knew well, and Paul knew perfectly, that " the things 
which God hath prepared for them that love him" surpass 
all knowledge and comprehension : but they knew, also, 
that God had revealed these things as freely and fully as 
they were utterable by words, or could be made intelligible 
by images ; which is just as far as a revelation of them 
could go ; and, therefore, these holy men found in this, in- 
spiring reasons for frequent and rapturous contemplation of 
the saints' everlasting rest. 

This case is similar to that of the love of Christ. It 
" passeth knowledge" in its breadth and length, its depth 
and height ; but that is not held to be a valid reason for not 
trying to " comprehend" it. Accordingly, when we do try, 
we do comprehend enough of its " breadth," to see room for 
ourselves ; enough of its " length," to see residence for our- 
selves ; enough of its " depth," to see support for ourselves ; 
enough of its " height," to see security for ourselves. Or, 
if at any time, or even often, we fail to see all this in the 
dimensions and duration of the love of Christ, we feel that 
the failure is owing to our own blindness or unbelief, and 
not to any defect in His love. Besides, its incomprehen- 
sibleness is felt to be a part of its glory. We understand 
and enjoy it most when we are constrained to say, "It 
passeth knowledge !" When Paul uttered this exclamation, 



262 THE EXCUSES FOR NOT 

and its emphatic accompaniments, he saw more of the 
wonders of redeeming love than he had ever seen before. 
His mind was out amongst its immeasurable glories, as 
Newton's was abroad in the universe, when he said it was 
unsearchable. This, in Newton's lips, was not the language 
of ignorance, nor of disappointment. He saw the distant 
and dazzling points at which the universe became unsearch- 
able ; and never knew nor enjoyed so much, as when he 
thus felt, through all his soul, that it " passeth knowledge." 
In like manner, Paul saw the point of breadth, the point of 
length, the point of depth, the point of height, at which the 
love of Christ, like the spaces of infinity, surpasseth com- 
prehension. 

So it is with the glories of heaven. Enough may be 
discovered, by devotional meditation, to fill the heart with a 
"joy full of glory;" and that joy will overflow whenever it 
is really "unspeakable." There is, therefore, no such lack 
or indefiniteness of information, as would excuse inatten- 
tion, or as should discourage effort. Behold, in Revelation, 
" a ladder set up on earth," and the top thereof reacheth 
" to heaven ;" and we, though not angels, may ascend and 
descend on it with perfect safety and daily advantage. It 
was not on this ladder that the Mystics ascended. 

Is it, then, because we deem it unnecessary to our safety 
or comfort, that we set apart so little time for heavenly 
meditation ? Are we influenced in this by the conduct of 
others ; and, because so few seem heavenly-minded, until 
they are dying, do we think it enough to be neighbour- 
like? Do we ever, to avoid the trouble of retiring to med- 
itate on heaven, try to prove that it is not necessary unto 
salvation to be heavenly-minded? Are we rather pleased 
with, than ashamed of, the bald logic which could make it 
quite plausible, that a man may get to heaven at last, with- 
out thinking much about it by the way ? Are we at all in- 
clined to play ofT any of the doctrines of grace against the 
necessity of setting our affections on "things above?" 

These questions are not so numerous or varied, as the 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 263 

ways in which, the human heart tries to evade the claims 
of God and eternity upon its affections. It can play both 
dexterous and desperate games of hazard, when it is unwil- 
ling to yield to divine authority. Some persuade them- 
selves that there is no hazard even in allowing an immoral 
habit of life to stand out against the law of God. Now, 
this we durst not allow in ourselves. This we brand with 
the deserved and disgraceful name of Antinomianism ; the 
mark of the modern " beast and false prophet," whether 
blazoned on the " forehead," or hid in the "hand." There 
are, however, " lusts of the mind," as well as lusts of the 
flesh ; and the desire to reserve the great bulk of our spare 
time for thinking and speaking of earthly things, is one of 
these mental lusts. The desire to have things right be- 
tween God and the conscience, without the trouble of keep- 
ing them right, is another. Impatience to quit the closet is 
a third. Drawing in, or checking, those lines of thought 
which lead direct to eternity, is a fourth. Now, although 
none of these lusts of the mind amount to Antinomianism, 
there is enough of sin in them to make a conscientious man 
afraid and ashamed of them. We, therefore, ought not to 
parley with the mean questions, how little heavenly medi- 
tation is compatible with not risking heaven ; or, how much 
may we " mind earthly things," without missing eternal 
things at last ? These are calculations which the Search- 
er of hearts must despise, as dishonourable to Himself, and 
as discreditable to those who are bound to please Him. For 
how can we please Him, if we take little or no pleasure in 
the eternal weight of glory, which he has prepared for, and 
revealed to, them that love him 1 

Consider, we profess to have " like precious faith" with 
them who first loved God, Now, they could say, " Our 
conversation is in heaven." Their apostolic teachers could 
say of them, " Ye took joyfully the spoiling of your goods ; 
knowing, in yourselves, that ye have in heaven a better and 
an enduring inheritance." Now, as we allow, and even try 
to make our faith go all the length that theirs went, in re- 



264 THE EXCUSES FOR NOT 

lying on the Saviour, and in depending- on the Holy Spirit, 
and in following practical holiness, why not allow and em- 
ploy it to be " the substance of things hoped, and the evi- 
dence of things not seen ?." Hear how God appeals to us 
on behalf of this duty : " If ye be then risen with Christ, 
seek those things which are from above, where Christ sit- 
teth at the right hand of God. Set your affections on things 
above, not on things on the earth." This spiritual command 
is as authoritative as the moral command annexed to it — 
" Mortify your members which are upon the earth," (Col. i. 
1—5.) Now, this moral command, so far as it regards the 
lusts of the flesh, we revere and obey. It is written upon 
our hearts as with the pen of a diamond. We deprecate 
and loathe any sophistry that would relax its authority over 
us, or soften the aspect of incontinence. This is as it should 
be ; but why should the spiritual command be less heeded, 
or the neglect of it be less feared? It rests upon the same 
high authority, and is equally explicit. Its sanction, also, 
although it do not sound so aw r fully, is not less solemn than 
that of the former. The Saviour enforces heaven!y-mind- 
edness thus : " for where your treasure is. there will your 
hearts be also :" a consideration not less awful, when duly 
weighed, than the " wrath" threatened against the unclean; 
for if the "heart" be set on earthly things, the issue will be 
fatal to the soul. 

It is easy to say, and to prove by words, that there is no 
comparison between sensuality and earthly-mindedness, in 
point of guilt. This is quite true, in more senses than one. 
It is, however, equally true, that there is much comparison 
between them in point of tendency. Accordingly, worldli- 
ness ruins quite as many as profligacy, if not more. It is 
equally powerful, and more plausible, in diverting the mind 
from God. It leaves as little room or relish in the heart 
for secret devotion, as vice can do. The sensualist is afraid 
to be alone with God ; and the worldling grudges the time 
and dislikes the duty. In a word ; as it is expressly de- 
clared that the sensual have not " the Spirit," so it is, that 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 265 

" if any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in 
him." 

It is not intended by these remarks to confound even a 
low degree of heavenly-mindedness, with this love of the 
world. The former may coexist with both the love and 
the fear of God for a time. A renewed mind is not a heav- 
enly mind at once, nor always soon ; but whilst this is 
readily granted, it is not less true, that a renewed mind can 
only prove its renewal to itself, by trying to set its affections 
on things above, as soon as the necessity of doing so is 
proved to be imperative ; for to give ourselves full credit for 
being "born of God," whilst conscious of a wilful outstand 
against ihis divine command, would be both imprudent and 
presumptuous. Something must be, and will be done, in 
this matter, by an honest convert, that he may have a good 
conscience towards God in heavenly things, as well as tow- 
ards man in earthly things. Much will not be done, how- 
ever, until he is as fully persuaded of the advantage, as of 
the necessity of heavenly-mindedness ; for where it is to 
begin, after we have gone on pretty well for years without 
it, it is not easy to see the use or the benefit of it. Indeed, 
at first sight, there seems more advantage to be derived from 
cultivating the practical virtues more carefully, than from 
thinking often about heaven. And there is much weight 
in the question — Is not practical godliness the best prepa- 
ration for heaven ? The man who denies or doubts this, does 
not understand the design of the gospel. " The grace of 
God that bringeth salvation," bringeth it, " teaching us, that, 
denying all ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live 
soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world." But 
this is not all that it teaches us : all this is to be done, Paul 
says, " looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious ap- 
pearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ," 
(Titus ii. 13.) Looking heavenward is, therefore, as much 
one of the lessons which grace teacheth, as looking well to 
our moral conduct, is another ; and a habit of both is equal- 
ly taught in the gospel. Accordingly, they will be found, 
vol. I.— 23 



266 THE EXCUSES FOR NOT 

on due examination, to be mutually necessary and useful to 
each other. Indeed, there can be noheavenly-mindedness, 
where there is little practical godliness. The man who is 
not both sober and honest, is unable to realize eternal things, 
so as to derive any enjoyment from them. There is a 
flaming sword between him, and " the tree of life, which is 
in the midst of the Paradise of God." It is quite unneces- 
sary to caution him against devoting too much of his time 
or thought to the contemplation of future glory. His thoughts 
run in the opposite direction, when they are forced in 
amongst invisible realities. 

On the other hand, however, it is equally true, that, without 
" looking for the blessed hope" of eternal life, there will be 
no eminent godliness. There may, indeed, be honesty, and 
sobriety, and benevolence, maintained, without much dis- 
tinct reference to heaven ; because these duties bring a 
daily reward, by increasing the comfortableness of the com- 
forts of life. There are, however, duties, and those of 
equal importance too, which cannot be well discharged 
without a considerable degree of heavenly-mindedness, be- 
cause their rewards are remote. The religious education 
of a family is one of these duties. Parents, who are con- 
tent to let recollections of eternity come and go as may 
happen, and who take no pains to keep the light of eternity 
upon their domestic responsibilities, will neither do nor care 
much for the spiritual welfare of their children ; but will 
also content themselves with the negative virtue of not set- 
ting a bad example before their offspring, and with the cheap 
discipline of an angry reproof, or a hasty punishment. In 
such families, also, nothing will be done to make servants 
wise unto salvation, except allowing or requiring them to 
attend public worship once on the Lord's day. In like 
manner, where there is no habitual sense of unseen realities 
kept up, there will be no habitual effort to glorify God, by 
trying to do good to the souls of the poor and the perishing. 
Relief may be sent to the poor, and visiting societies sup- 
ported for the spiritual benefit of the sick; but personal ex- 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 267 

ertions to win souls will not be made, by any one whose 
personal piety has but little daily reference to eternity. 

Nor are these the only duties which cannot be well dis- 
charged without some heavenly-mindedness. The Scrip- 
tures will not be much, nor very devotionally, searched, if 
we lose sight of the " eternal life" which they reveal. 
Secret prayer will not be very solemn nor constant, if we 
confine our attention to our immediate spiritual wants ; for 
whatever truth there may be in the religious proverb, (and 
there is much,) that " dying grace is for a dying hour," it is 
equally true, that if grace to live well is not sought with an 
express reference to dying well, it will not be earnestly nor 
often sought. He will pray most in secret, and with most 
pleasure, whose closet is, as it were, a little nook of the 
heaven of heavens, partitioned off for communion with God, 
and whose times of retirement are regarded as portions of 
eternity. And there is special need, that the family altar 
should actually lean on the eternal throne ; there is such 
danger of becoming formal and dull in domestic worship ! 

The advantages of heavenly-mindedness are not, how- 
ever, confined to the duties of godliness : they extend also 
to religious enjoyments. Now, a " good hope through 
grace," is an enjoyment which we prize highly, and pray 
much for ; because we find that we cannot go on well with- 
out it. We feel with Paul, that hope is the very " anchor 
of the soul." We call it emphatically, " our sheet anchor ;" 
nor is there any impropriety in thus strengthening our sense 
of its importance, by the best form of its consecrated 
image. It would, however, be better to familiarize our- 
selves with the scriptural use of this fine image. Now, 
Paul says, that the anchor of hope " enter eth into that 
within the veil ; whither the forerunner is for us entered, 
even Jesus." " That within the veil," is evidently heaven. 
It is, therefore, when hope (like an anchor passing through 
the veil of the waters until it lay hold upon the channels of 
the waters) passes into heaven, that it becomes an anchor 
of the soul, " sure and steadfast," and thus furnishes " strong 



268 THE EXCUSES FOR NOT 

consolation." (Heb. vi. 19, 20.) If, therefore, we would 
enjoy or maintain a good hope through grace, we must 
make it to enter within the veil, not only when our souls 
are tempest-tossed, but also when there is a " great calm." 
Indeed, we shall not be able to use it as an anchor, in the 
storm, if we do not use it in the calm. Accordingly, those 
who use it rather as ballast to their character, than as an 
anchor of the soul, find, in the hour of temptation and trial, 
that they cannot cast it within the veil. They try ; but it 
will not take hold of " that" which is within. Their hope 
drags, like an anchor on bad moorings. Not, indeed, that 
using it as ballast to the character, is the cause of this. 
Hope should, yea, must, be employed to steady the life, as 
well as to cheer the heart. It will, however, be unable to 
enter within the veil, whilst all without the veil is dark and 
threatening, if it do not accustom itself to enter when all 
without is tranquil. Our souls must send hope heaven- 
ward, even when they least need the consolation, if they 
would stand prepared to enjoy that consolation when they 
most need it. 

The spirit, although not the form, of these hints, is equal- 
ly applicable to the enjoyment of peace of conscience. 
This, also, is very dear, and justly so, to all true believers ; 
and, like every other spiritual joy, it has both its source and 
centre in the Cross of Christ. But whilst it was the blood 
of Christ that made peace, and whilst it is faith in that 
blood which brings peace into the conscience, it is heaven 
which tests our peace in believing, and shows " what sort 
it is :" for if it will not bear to be confronted with heaven, 
it is not such a peace as the atonement is calculated to af- 
ford ; and, therefore, not such as should satisfy us. No- 
thing, however, is farther from my intention, in these re- 
marks, than to insinuate that there is no faith in the atone- 
ment, when there is no assurance of eternal life, or whilst 
heaven is not directly contemplated. There is much evi- 
dence of true faith, when a conscience, once burdened 
with guilt, and agitated with fear, is so tranquillized by 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 269 

scriptural views of the cross, that the believer is both able 
and willing to engage in all the ordinary duties of life with 
composure and determination. This is as truly " the work 
of faith," and as properly so, as any effort to set our affec- 
tions on things above : for we belong to time as well as to 
eternity ; to this world, as well as to that which is to come ; 
and are, therefore, equally bound to discharge the duties of 
both. It would, therefore, be decidedly wrong to form a 
habit of so contemplating heaven, as if we were just about 
to leave the world. This is not what is wanted. It is, 
however, necessary, as we know not when we must leave 
the world, that our faith should often try how our peace will 
stand the test of a steady look at heaven. Let it, by all 
means, look at the duties of life and godliness ; and observe 
well, how it is affected by them ; and let all its holy in- 
fluence upon them be set down as proof of its being " the 
peace of God," which springs from faith in Christ. It 
must not, however, be allowed to stop here. Our peace 
must be frequently confronted with heaven also, if we would 
have it to " keep our hearts and minds" truly happy. For, 
as there must be something wrong or defective in it, if 
thinking of eternity disturbs it ; so our own consciousness 
of this disturbance must create a suspicion that we may 
have no peace, when we are compelled to think of eternity : 
for if the prospect agitate us, how must the reality over- 
power us on our death-bed ? Whereas, by seeking from 
day to day, a peace which shall " reign unto eternal life," 
as well as sweeten our temporal life, we shall do best for 
both worlds. 

It is now easy to see how heavenly-mindedness must main- 
tain and promote love to the Saviour. We often lament the 
coldness and deadness of our hearts towards Him. There are 
few prayers that we utter so fervently, as that of Watts : — 

" Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 

With all thy quickening powers ; 
Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, 

And that shall kindle ours !" 
23* 



270 NOMINAL FAITH, FROM NOT 

Well, the spirit we thus invoke, works by means. He 
quickens by quickening motives ; and one of them is, the 
hope of glory. Now, this he employs so much for kindling 
love to Christ, that one of his own titles is, " the earnest of 
the inheritance" in heaven. By trying, therefore, to set our 
affections on things above, we are taking the most natural 
way, and the most spiritual too, of setting them upon the 
Saviour himself. Indeed, it is impossible to love him as 
we ought, or even as we might, without contemplating fre- 
quently both the wrath to come, from which He delivers ; 
and the glory to come, which He has prepared. 



No. IV. 

NOMINAL FAITH, FROM NOT REALIZING 
ETERNITY. 

What ought believers, and especially ministers, to think 
of that national faith which Christianity has obtained in this 
country ? Any zealot can despise it ; and any theorist ex- 
pose its defects. Both, however, would be startled, were 
the national faith transferred from Protestantism to Popery, 
or to Deism, or even to Socinianism. Such an apostacy 
would be appalling, even to those who brand popular faith, 
as absolute unbelief. They would be the first to proclaim 
its guilt, and to predict its punishment. National faith is 
not, therefore, a worthless nor a useless thing. Even 
nominal Christianity is infinitely preferable to real infidelity. 
The latter would throw back the moral character of the 
country, and render salvation impossible ; whereas the for- 
mer, with all its awful defects — and they are as enormous as 
numerous — maintains many virtues, and helps to keep the 
golden candlestick of the gospel in Britain. 

Is there, then, no faith at all in this popular belief? 
However this may be, there is as much truth passed into 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 271 

currency, as keeps popular feeling hostile to Popery and 
Socinianism. Public opinion is against the great heresies, 
both of ancient and modern times. Indeed, except in a 
few obscure places, it is impossible for any minister to 
speak more highly of the glory or the grace of the Saviour, 
than the public mind would bear. Neither the " Amen," 
nor the " Alleluia," of the people would be withheld from 
the loftiest form of his worship. 

Snch being the sober and familiar facts of the case, that 
man's orthodoxy ought not to be suspected, who ventures 
to doubt the wisdom of despising and denouncing national 
faith. He ought, at least, to obtain a fair hearing, even 
when he hazards the assertion, that exposures of its defects 
and fallacies are not the only nor the best means of removing 
them. It is as easy, as it is true, to tell nominal believers, 
that they do not understand nor love the gospel which they 
profess to believe ; that they have no spiritual discernment 
of its glory, and no humbling sense of their need of its 
grace. This, alas, is the fact ; but the question is, why is 
this the case ? It is easy to say, because they do not seek 
to be taught by the Spirit of God. This, also, is only too true ! 
But here, also, the question, " Why is this the case," is 
necessary. Why are the generality so insensible of their 
need of divine teaching, and so averse to pray for it ? Here, 
again, it is as easy, as it is true, to say, that they love the 
world so much, and sin so well, that " the things of the 
Spirit are foolishness" to them. Still the question returns, 
why do they so love the world and sin ? Now, when we say 
that such is human nature, whilst unregenerate, we ought to 
remember, that such was our nature, and that of all believers, 
before conversion. What, therefore, was the grand con- 
sideration which the eternal Spirit employed for changing 
our nominal belief of the gospel, into cordial faith ? What 
gave that force to truth ; and that effect to trials ; and that 
power to conscience ; and that aspect to sin ; which ar- 
rested our unbelief, and decided our character ? The Chris- 
tian, who will examine this matter duly in his own case, 



272 NOMINAL FAITH, FROM NOT 

will find that it was the weight of eternity which turned the 
scale. And if he will pass from his own case, to that of 
the first Christians, he will find, in a more remarkable de- 
gree, that it was by motives drawn from all the heights and 
depths of eternity, that the Holy Spirit won faith to the cross. 

Now, if this be the historical and experimental fact, is it 
not both self-evident and certain, that nominal belief must 
prevail, until eternity is brought to bear more fully and fre- 
quently on the public mind ? Are we wiser than Christ 
and the Apostles, that we deal so much in exposures of 
defect and fallacy in nominal faith, and so little in manifest- 
ations of eternal things ? Are we so ignorant of human 
nature, as to imagine that the way to set men right, is to 
prove that they are wrong ? Unmasking and analyzing 
character, principle, and motives, formed, indeed, a special 
part of the Saviour's ministry. He never met the scribes 
or the Pharisees, without exposing both their hypocrisy and 
self-righteousness. But, whilst this is true, it is equally 
true that all this was done in direct connexion with eternity. 
Their hypocrisy was laid open and lashed, not chiefly by 
contrasting it with the sincerity of the pious, but by kindling 
upon it " the damnation of hell." Their boasting righteousness 
was weighed, and found wanting ; but not in the scales of 
comparison only, nor in the scales of law chiefly, but in 
those of judgment and eternity. Every thing was brought 
to an eternal issue, and kept in the full blaze of heaven's 
glories, or of hell's flames. Thus the Saviour gave the 
scribes and Pharisees something more to do, than to mark 
how their spirit differed from that of the penitent and the 
humble ; He made them notice and feel, how it differed 
from all that constitutes meetness for heaven, and how it 
breathed " the savour of death unto death." 

This characteristic of the Saviour's" ministry may be 
traced in all his sermons to all classes. Everlasting life, 
or everlasting misery, is always the great motive by which 
he enforces every duty ; and the only motive by which he 
enforces faith. Indeed, it might have been with an express 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 273 

reference to the mere moral reasonings of the present day, 
and as a standing protest against them, that he ran ail his 
lessons into eternity. When he argues against a besetting 
sin, he spends no time in proving its baneful influence upon 
personal or domestic happiness ; but appeals, at once, to the 
final result of indulgence, " everlasting fire." Matt, xviii. 
8, 9. In like manner, when he enforces mutual forgive- 
ness and forbearance on his disciples, no time is lost in 
shifting these duties through all the signs of the zodiac of 
propriety ; but. an unforgiving servant is placed at once in 
the hands of "the tormentors," and the disciples told, "So 
likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye 
from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their 
trespasses." If it is only the calling of opprobrious names 
he approaches the sin without any circumlocution, and 
says, " Whosoever shall say, thou fool, shall be in danger 
of hell fire." If it is but one member of the body that re- 
quires to be mortified, he threatens the "whole body" with 
hell, unless that member be crucified. "This is not the 
manner of man, O Lord God!" It was, however, the 
Saviour's manner of enforcing faith and obedience ; and 
the effect of it was — the prevention of nominal belief, or 
the speedy detection of nominal believers. Under the min- 
istry of Christ, men had to believe for eternity, or not at 
all ; for he kept all truth and duty for ever upon the battle- 
ments of heaven, or upon the brink of hell. So did his 
apostles. The first and the final appeals of both, on behalf 
of faith and repentance, were, invariably and directly, to 
" the powers of the world to come." The consequence 
was, as has been already stated, that nominal faith did not 
prevail then. I had no leader to rally under. There was 
no apostle of the Lamb afraid to mention hell 

" To ears polite." 

Those who said, " I am of Paul, and I am of A polios," did 
not avow this preference, because of any difference of doc- 
trine or spirit between these preachers, on the subject of 



274 NOMINAL FAITH, FROM NOT 

the wrath to come. Both, "knowing the terrors of the 
Lord, persuaded men," and wielded these terrors with 
equal frequency and fidelity. Neither of them was an 
" awful preacher," in the sense of being — unfeeling, or 
clamorous in proclaiming the wrath to come. They had 
weighed that wrath too deeply, and they believed it too 
firmly, to brawl or rave when they denounced or described 
it. They did, however, both describe and denounce it. It 
was not hushed up, nor hurried over, in their sermons. It 
was not, indeed, dwelt upon, nor unnecessarily dragged into 
their sermons ; but, when it was brought unto them, it came 
as " the wrath of God and the Lamb ;" — a solemn, settled, 
and eternal reality ! Those who heard Paul say, " Indig- 
nation and wrath, tribulation and anguish, on every soul of 
man that doeth evil," durst not have said that Paul was in a 
passion. However any one shrunk or shuddered, no one 
could calm his fears by charging the apostle with heat or 
harshness, when he exclaimed, " The Lord Jesus shall be 
revealed from heaven with his mighty angels, in flaming 
fire, taking vengeance on them that know not God, and 
obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ." This, if 
even uttered in thunder, outspake, like the Sinai trumpet, 
all the thunder, and outshone all the lightning, of voice or 
visage, which could accompany it. It might be braved by 
the reckless, and disbelieved by the skeptical ; but it could 
not be evaded nor evaporated, by those who trembled, by 
the stale pretence of undue warmth or savage ferocity. It 
is as much too solemn to be passion, as is the thunder of 
the heavens to be noise. This description of the coining of 
Christ, to punish " with everlasting destruction," must have 
been uttered almost as solemnly as if Paul, in the presence 
of it, had said, " Behold, he cometh." 

Now, of this manner and spirit of preaching " eternal 
judgment," there is by far too little in the present day ; and 
the prevalence of nominal faith is the proof and the effect 
of the deficiency. Men could not remain at " ease in 
Zion," in such numbers and so long, if the terrors of the 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 275 

Lord were rightly used " to persuade men." They may be 
often and awfully employed to terrify men ; and yet pro- 
duce no effect, or only a bad effect. Harsh denunciations 
of wrath are just as likely to harden the conscience, as 
silence on the subject of hell is to lull conscience asleep. 
Accordingly, it is no uncommon thing to find hell least 
feared where it is most familiar. This is only what might 
be expected. The terrors of the Lord, if not used for per- 
suasion, and in a persuasive spirit, will be resented or ridi- 
culed. The gospel, however, can neither be preached nor 
believed without the use of them. It is not the " great 
salvation" that is proclaimed, when heaven only is opened 
and offered. That is, also, a salvation from hell ; and, 
therefore, it is compromised and misrepresented, whenever 
the wrath to come is less exhibited than the glory to be re- 
vealed. It is even defeated, when that wrath is reluctantly, 
or hesitatingly, or but slightly hinted at ; for any appearance 
of faltering or fearing, in the proclamation of it, hinders 
the belief of it; and thus prevents the belief of the gos- 
pel. For no man does or can believe the gospel, until he 
believe that he is in danger of perishing eternally. Now, 
although the frequent pressing home of that danger is not 
the best way of producing the belief of it, slight references 
to it are sure to prevent the fear of perishing ; because 
their slightness is held to betray the same doubt or dislike, 
on the part of the speaker, as is felt by the hearers. They 
interpret the reluctance to touch the subject, and the haste 
to leave it, and the pain evinced while naming it, as signs 
of secret disbelief ; or regard them as transcripts of their 
own suspicions and aversion. And, if they see that they 
are humoured, and almost countenanced in their dislike of 
the subject, by the way in which it is hurried over, they 
will soon justify that dislike. 

O, what wisdom ! what prudence ! is requisite, in order 
to preach the gospel. Christ is a Saviour from eternal 
misery, or not a Saviour at all ; and yet nothing is so disbe- 
lieved as that misery. The very silence which is maintain- 



276 NOMINAL FAITH, FROM NOT 

ed on the subject of hell, proves how much it is disbelieved. 
The loudness and violence with which infidels deny and 
deride hell, betray more secret dread of it, than the silence 
of others indicates faith in it. The generality are silent, 
because they secretly hope or wish it to be untrue. They 
could not keep their thoughts or their lips so habitually clear 
of the subject, if it were not deeply doubted. The very 
hypocrites in Zion could not be silent if they believed in 
" everlasting burnings." 

How ought this prevalent unbelief to be treated, is a 
question of immense importance. It admits, however, of a 
very simple answer, if Scripture, and not vain philosophy, 
be consulted. " The wrath to come" must be asserted in 
the pulpit as it is in the Bible — explicitly, solemnly, and 
persuasively ; and never treated controversially. The Sav- 
iour never proves its truth or its justice by abstract reason- 
ings. The Apostles never demonstrate, by arguments, the 
certainty or the necessity of the hell they proclaim. Both 
assert it, as they do the being of God, in unequivocal and 
unqualified terms. They never recognise nor refer to any 
objection, aversion, doubt, or question, which any one might 
entertain on the subject. If there were, in their audiences, 
those who professed to find any thing in the divine charac- 
ter or government, with which hell is inconsistent ; or any 
thing in the nature of human guilt, which renders it unjust ; 
or any thing in the gospel, which disproves it ; neither 
Christ nor his apostles ever paid such reasoners the com- 
pliment of reasoning with them. Both unbelievers and 
doubters, on other subjects, were often and anxiously argued 
with. The Saviour went particularly and fully into any 
detail, or any line of argument, in order to prove to gainsay- 
ers his Messiahship and Sonship. And the Apostles not 
only met all the popular objections and prejudices against 
the doctrines of grace, but seem even to have anticipated 
the more profound evasions of future times ; that, thus, they 
might " cut off occasion," from all who sought occasion for 
urging their feelings or their philosophy against the gospel 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 277 

of the grace of God. But not thus — never thus, do they 
treat the unbelief of the heart, or of the mind, on the sub- 
ject of hell. Like heaven and God it is left to speak for 
itself. As the sacred writers never prove, by reasoning, 
that there is a heaven, neither do they argue the fact of hell 
with any man. They no more think it necessary to prove 
that eternal misery is not too bad to be true, than that eter- 
nal glory is not too good to be true. The horrors of the 
former are no more allowed to bring its truth into debate or 
doubt, than the raptures of the latter are allowed to bring its 
reality into question. Both are placed and left on the sin- 
gle ground of inspired assertion. Both are amply described, 
but neither is ever discussed. 

Now this is what is wanted. Ministers, and teachers, 
and parents, must say nothing of hell but what God hath 
said ; and that only in his own words, in general. Man is 
not equal to amplify the revelation of wrath. He is not 
to be trusted with optional freedom in depicting the hor- 
rors of a desolate eternity. He cannot keep his own wrath 
out of gratuitous descriptions of the wrath of God and the 
Lamb. Whenever, therefore, it is brought in as " a fiery 
stream," it should be self-evident that "the breath of Jeho- 
vah" hath kindled it. Whenever the " horrible tempest" is 
shown, it should be seen that He rains " the snares, fire, 
and brimstone." Whenever a minister descends into the 
bottomless pit to describe it, he must manifest that he is no 
more in his element than was the " mighty angel" of the 
Apocalypse, who descended to bind Satan ; and yet, like 
that angel, he must not flinch nor falter ; but use as freely 
and honestly all that God has said, as the angel used the 
" great chain." The hell of the Bible, like the heaven of 
the Bible, needs no colouring, and admits of no softening. 

It is, therefore, equally pitiful when, in reference to fu- 
ture misery, one minister acquires the name of a harsh 
preacher, and another that of a gentle preacher. He is un- 
wise, who attempts to terrify by other visions of hell than 
those which revelation presents ; and he is worse than un- 

vol. i. — 24 



278 NOMINAL FAITH, FROM NOT 

wise, who is less ample or explicit than Christ was. It 
is shameful to plead the gentleness of Christ, or the mild 
genius of Christianity, as a warrant for touching, seldom or 
slightly, on the painful subject of " everlasting destruction." 
This is a mere pretence. Christ is the great preacher of 
the wrath to come. He spoke more frequently and more 
emphatically of it, than any or all the messengers of God. 
And the only mildness of the genius of the Gospel, on this 
subject, is, the perfect freeness, fulness, and certainty of the 
salvation from that wrath, which it proffers and proclaims. 
It pretends to and warrants none of that mildness, which 
conceals or softens hell. It makes no provision, and no al- 
lowance, for the weakness of any man's nerves, or for the 
delicacy of his taste, or for the conjectures of his reason, 
except the provision for saving him from the reality of that 
hell, the prospect of which shocks him. The gospel pro- 
vides amply for our safety from hell ; but not at all to ex- 
empt us from believing the eternity of future punishment, or 
our own exposure to it. Indeed, the truth of that hell, and of 
our own danger, is the very basis or occasion of all the glad 
tidings of the gospel. They are glad tidings of great joy, just 
because Tophet is an eternal reality, and sin an infinite evil. 

Let men know, therefore, what they are about, whilst 
debating, or doubting, or evading this point : they are both 
rejecting the gospel, and treating God as a liar. That gos- 
pel proceeds upon the very fact and principle, that the pun- 
ishment of sin is " everlasting destruction from the presence 
of the Lord, and from the glory of his power." How, then, 
can it be believed, whilst this is disbelieved ? Believing it 
in order to be made better, or in order to make sure of 
heaven, is very proper and necessary ; but this is not enough. 
It is the gospel of deliverance from the wrath to come ; and 
must, therefore, be believed for the sake of that deliverance. 
But for this, it is not, and cannot be believed, if the danger 
is questioned. 

Here, then, is the real cause of nominal faith, and of its 
prevalence. Very few believe that they deserve, or have 



REALIZING ETERNITY. 279 

incurred, the wrath of" God. The generality think, what- 
ever they may say, that they do not deserve eternal punish- 
ment. Accordingly, the belief they give to the gospel, is 
given to it as a moral remedy ; or as a true religion ; or as 
an authenticated history. It is believed, just as if there 
were no hell ; or as if sin did not lead to the place " pre- 
pared for the devil and his angels." In a word, the current 
credence it obtains in the nation, is not for the sake of what 
is the first purpose for which Christ died ; which is, to " de- 
liver from going down to the pit." 

Here an important question arises : — how is this inveterate 
disbelief of danger to be vanquished ? Now, I may safely 
assert, at once, that it never was vanquished in any mind, 
by abstract reasonings on the nature or the desert of sin. 
The cry, " Lord, save, I perish," was not won nor wrung 
from your own heart by the force of moral or legislative 
considerations. You are not a trophy nor a monument of 
the power of abstract truth. It is not, chiefly, because you 
see how sin affects the character and government of God, 
that you believe the certainty and the necessity of eternal 
punishment. Your former unbelief on this point was borne 
down, and is kept down, just by the solemn fact, that God 
has said that " the wicked shall be turned into hell, where 
the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." It is 
the weight of His declarations, and not your own insight 
into the nature of things, or into the philosophy of moral 
government, that fixes your convictions of hell. Its revealed 
truth enables you to reason on its abstract justice ; and all 
the character of the great atonement confirms your reason- 
ings ; but it was on the single and solemn ground of " Thus 
saith the Lord," that you began either to reason or believe. 
Your faith, in this matter, stands on the word of God, and 
not on the word of man, nor on your natural perceptions of 
the eternal fitness of things. 

Now, what won you to flee from the wrath to come, and 
thus to believe on Christ for everlasting life, is just what is 
wanted in the case of all nominal believers. They cannot 



280 SPIRITUAL DECLENSION, FROM 

be argued nor enticed into the belief of their danger. No 
exposure of the defects of their faith, will remedy these 
defects. The wisdom of man is foolishness here, whenever 
it tries to drive or draw without considerations " full of 
immortality." We must have faith in the force of God's 
own words, on the subject of heaven and hell. They want 
no helping out from man. What is wanted, is, the full im- 
pression of them ; the spiritual apprehension of them ; the 
solemn realization of their truth and interest. Then, both 
the formal and the heartless must feel, that they are not 
believing the gospel, whilst they continue to disbelieve their 
own danger of perishing ; and must see, that they are at 
open issue with God on a turning point in religion. Now, 
as even the most heedless would not give himself credit 
for any real faiih in the gospel if he doubted and hated the 
doctrine of it concerning Heaven ; his secret disbelief of 
his doctrine concerning Hell, may and ought to be pub- 
licly charged on him as proof of his unbelief. 



No. V. 

SPIRITUAL DECLENSION, FROM NOT REALIZING 
ETERNITY. 

At first sight, it seems surprising, as well as deplorable, 
that we should ever sink into heartless formality in the 
worship of God, or into cold apathy under the Word of 
God ; seeing his word is the only substitute we have for 
his presence, and his worship the chief emblem and prelude 
of heaven. And yet, there are times, and these, alas ! too 
frequent, when we pray without fervency, and praise with- 
out gratitude, and hear without any lively interest. Truths 
which have made " our heart burn within us," can hardly 
fix our ear then ; and songs and supplications which have 
been almost " unutterable," by their intensity, are scarcely 



NOT REALIZING ETERNITY. 281 

worth uttering then, owing to their heartlessness. The 
words of prayer and praise are the same ; but the spirit and 
the life of them are gone. Even the natural tones have 
forsaken the terms of devotion. The very sound of honest 
and artless feeling is lost. 

Now, we may well be ashamed of such declensions of 
the spirit of devotion : but, ought we to wonder at them ? 
Is it really surprising that the power of godliness should thus 
evaporate, until the very form of it is ready to vanish away ? 

However this may be, we are surprised as well as sorry. 
We do wonder that truths and duties, which have often both 
interested and absorbed our whole soul, should ever become 
either tame or tedious, dim or dull, to us. We feel this 
especially, when they become so, even whilst we are not 
unholy nor untender in our general character or conduct ; 
and when we cannot trace the unhappy change of feeling 
to any change of habits. We*are conscious that a blight 
has fallen upon our spirit ; but unconscious of bringing it 
on by any allowed misconduct. Our character is much the 
same, as when our spirit was lively and devotional : and, 
as we have not relinquished nor altered any of our religious 
principles, we are amazed, as well as grieved, that our 
hearts should become thus alienated from the power of- 
religion. 

In this dilemma is it not uncommon to have recourse to 
a false principle of explanation. Some ascribe the decay 
to the sovereign withdrawment of the Divine Presence ; 
meaning by that, the hiding of God's countenance from the 
soul, as an experiment upon the soul. Others, justly afraid 
of resolving into absolute sovereignty, what is but too easily 
explained by the weakness of human nature, ascribe the 
decay to that weakness. They say, " it is only what might 
be expected in the case of imperfect creatures, whilst in a 
world so imperfect." Thus they lay their account with sink- 
ing into occasional deadness and formality ; and regard the 
declension as a matter of course, or of inevitable necessity. 

This solution is as unwise as the other is impious. Not, 
24* 



dbd SPIRITUAL DECLEN8I0N, FROM 

however, that there are no circumstances which upset the 
power of godliness for a time. There are : and, under 
them, the Christian is, perhaps, quite as much an object of 
pity as of blame. The shock of sudden calamity, or a 
severe prostration of strength and spirits, is almost sure to 
overpower, or impair, the spirituality of the mind. Neither 
devotional habits nor feelings, which have been formed in 
health and prosperity, can accommodate themselves, at once, 
to pain and poverty. They are both shaken and shattered 
for a time. And, then, it is not improper nor imprudent to 
take the full comfort of the gracious assurance, that our 
pitying Father " knoweth our frame, and remembereth that 
we are dust." 

It is not, however, safe nor wise to have recourse to this 
principle, when neither the body nor the mind is broken down 
by care. Any decay of spirituality that occurs, whilst we 
are in ordinary circumstantfes of character and condition, 
will be found to spring from inattention to eternity. 

This is a much more frequent and fruitful source of re- 
ligious declension than we are apt to suspect, or willing to 
believe ; because we forget or overlook the degree in which 
the light of eternity was upon divine things, when we were 
first and most affected by them. This is the real secret of 
those relapses, which we cannot account for, when there 
has been no moral defection. The light of eternity has 
been suffered to pass off from the objects of faith and the 
acts of devotion. 

If you are not fully aware of this, or did not observe how 
much a sense of eternity blended with all your first and 
strongest impressions of divine things, the consideration of 
it will amply repay you for both the time and thought it 
calls for. 

Now, at whatever point of truth your serious impressions 
began, the force of that point was derived from eternity. 
Even if your heart was first moved and melted by the love 
of Christ, this is the fact of the case. You, indeed, thought 
of nothing, at the moment, but the glories, grace, and sacri- 



NOT REALIZING ETERNITY. 283 

flee of the Lamb of God. All your wonder and gratitude 
were concentrated upon his person and work. He was 
" All and All, and altogether lovely," in the views which 
then captivated and conquered your heart. And, had any one 
said to you, at that sacred moment, that you were thinking 
of eternity, you would have replied, " I think, I can think, 
of nothing but the amazing and melting love of my Sav- 
iour ; and of my own guilt and folly, in not thinking of it 
sooner." 

There was, however, much reference to eternity in all 
this process and pressure of thought and feeling. You, in- 
deed, were not conscious of it ; because, like sunlight on 
flowers, the light of eternity does not divide our attention 
between itself and the objects it shines on. It was, how- 
ever, there ; blended with, and beautifying, every view of 
the Saviour and salvation. Accordingly, had you analyzed 
your own thoughts at the time, or afterward, you would 
have found that they had not only glanced alternately at 
the past and future eternity of the love of Christ ; but, also, 
that its eternity was the very crown of its worth and glory. 
For, had He not loved for eternity, and redeemed for eterni- 
ty, you could not have thought nor felt as you did. Had 
any doubt of eternity itself, or of the eternal duration of his 
love, mingled with your meditations, they would not have 
been transporting nor transforming in their influence. 

There was, however, more than an undoubting recog- 
nition of eternity, in your adoring views of the Saviour. 
They were based upon, and blended with, a settled and 
solemn persuasion of the immortality of your soul. Your 
spirit, although unconscious of its own transitions between 
eternity and the cross, was yet, and all the while, glancing 
from the one to the other, and linking both together. Its 
movements were too numerous and rapid to be felt as tran- 
sitions of thought or feeling, at the moment ; but, now that 
you begin to analyze them, you perceive that you were em- 
ploying the glories of the cross to soften eternity, and the 
glories of eternity to enshrine the cross. Thus all your 



284 SPIRITUAL DECLENSION, FROM 



most realizing and influential views of the Lamb slain, 
were full of immortality. Eternity was all around the 
cross, as the flood around the ark ; and though your eye, in 
its intended and intense gaze, was fixed, like the dove's, on 
the refuge ; like hers also, it darted sidelong and swift and 
perpetual glances on the surrounding waters. 

Now, as this was the real character of your first and 
finest views of the Saviour and salvation, and as they de- 
rived so much of their power and glory from their con- 
nexion with eternity, it is not wonderful that both their 
power and their glory should decay, whenever you lose 
sight of eternity, or cease to look at the cross in the light 
of it. 

In like manner, if your personal piety began in a deep 
sense of the value of your soul, that solemn conviction de- 
rived its chief solemnity from eternity. It was more than 
based on, or blended with, the consciousness of immortali- 
ty : it was " full" of immortality. It would have been 
powerless, yea, been nothing, but for eternity. For, what- 
ever you thought or felt, in regard to any or all the powers 
of the mind, it was the fact of their being eternal powers, 
that arrested and riveted your attention. It was memory, 
as remembering for ever ; it was imagination, as creative for 
ever ; it was reason, as reasoning for ever ; it was con- 
science, as judging for ever — that awed and amazed you. 
Eternal consciousness! eternal thought! eternal feeling! 
was the absorbing consideration. It was not mental power, 
as mental ; nor moral sense, as moral ; but the eternity of 
mind and conscience, that impressed you. It was not the 
degree in which the soul was capable of enjoying or suf- 
fering ; but the " everlasting" duration of future joy or wo, 
that determined you to care for your soul. Accordingly, 
had its faculties been both fewer and feebler, and even in- 
capable of any improvement, here or hereafter, their eter- 
nity would have stamped and sustained them as infinitely 
valuable, in your estimation. And, as they must advance 
for ever, as well as endure for ever, you certainly did not 



NOT REALIZING ETERNITY. 285 

overrate their value, when you resolved not to lose your 
soul. 

Now, if these solemn views of the immortality of your 
spirit have been allowed to pass away, or to languish into 
cold and heartless forms of thought, it is not surprising that 
you should kneel at the mercy-seat without enjoyment, and 
at the cross without feeling. For, how can the soul, when 
it has become almost insensible to its own immortal nature, 
and immense value, and amazing faculties, feel alive in 
prayer or meditation ? How can the throne of grace be 
attractive, or the cross dear, " as in the days of old," when 
you no longer come to them under a deep or distinct con- 
sciousness of your immortality ? 

The want, or the weakness, of this, is just as incompat- 
ible with a devotional spirit, as the want or weakness of 
humility, penitence, or faith. Now, you are fully aware, 
that a self-righteous, or a self-sufficient spirit, does not, and 
cannot, find communion with God, nor comfort from the 
promises. You know well, that if you forget your guilt or 
weakness, you are neither successful nor urgent in prayer. 
Accordingly, you find it necessary, and make it convenient, 
to keep up an habitual sense of your sinfulness and un worthi- 
ness, that thus you may be humble before God, whenever 
you appear before Him in the sanctuary or the closet. All 
this is as it should be. The habitual consciousness of im- 
mortality is, however, as necessary as humility. Indeed, 
humility will not be very deep, when the sense of immortal- 
ity is dim. The latter is not, indeed, like the former, one 
of the " graces" of the Spirit ; but. it is the element in 
which they were all born, and out of which none of them 
thrive well. We are not repenting well, when we are not 
repenting for eternity ; nor believing well, when we are not 
believing for eternity ; nor praying well, when we are not 
praying with an express reference to eternity. 

It is, therefore, of supreme importance to acquire and 
keep up a vivid sense of immortality, if you would keep up 
the power of your principles, and the exercises of your 



286 SPIRITUAL DECLENSION, FROM 

graces. It is as an immortal spirit, that your soul will be 
most reverential in the presence of " the Father of spirits ;" 
and most humble in the presence of " the Father of mercies ;" 
and most believing in the presence of " the Father of lights." 
It is as an immortal spirit, it will best worship the Eternal 
Spirit " in spirit and truth." 

If, again, your personal piety began in deep and solemn 
convictions of the evil of sin, they, too, derived both their 
depth and solemnity from the fact, that the punishment of 
sin is eternal. This is true, even if your convictions arose 
chiefly from the manifestation of the evil of sin, which is 
given by the cross of Christ. Now, nowhere else does sin 
appear so " exceeding sinful," as in the agony and ignominy 
of the Saviour. That his blood was required in order to 
atone for it, throws every other proof of its evil into the 
shade ; and is the only proof that silences all the questions 
and equivocations of unbelief. Abstract reasonings about 
sin being an infinite evil — because committed against an 
infinite God ; and because its tendency is to dethrone God ; 
and because its nature is to go on from bad to worse for 
ever and ever — do not, whatever be the cause of their failure, 
bring home an abiding conviction of the evil of sin. How- 
ever true the logic, or legitimate the conclusions, of such 
reasonings may be, sophistry can wind its way through, or 
wing its way over them all, if they are not hung upon the 
cross of Christ. Accordingly, those who see nothing in 
the cross but a martyr's altar, see nothing in sin but a tem- 
porary evil, pardonable apart from all atonement. None 
of their views of God or man alarm them at sin ; except 
when it is so gross as to be disgraceful, or so horrid as to 
be shocking. 

But even where Calvary produces a conviction of sin, 
which Sinai could not do ; and the gospel a fear of sin, 
which the law cannot implant, both derive their point and 
power from eternity. And in this way — the punishment 
of sin being eternal in its duration, when it is inflicted upon 
sinners, what must have been the amount and intensity of 



NOT REALIZING ETERNITY. 287 

the Saviour's sufferings, when his soul was made " an offer- 
ing for sin ?" " Wrath to the uttermost" is not inflicted by 
God, for the sake of trying what its " uttermost" is. Nei- 
ther the degree nor the duration of it in hell, is, or can be, 
any pleasure to Him. He has actually sworn by his life, 
that he has " no pleasure" in the death of a sinner. Its 
very uttermost is, therefore, the very least that, in justice to 
his own character and government, he can inflict. And, as 
that least is eternal, there must have been in the Saviour's 
" cup," a bitterness, unspeakable and inconceivable to men 
or angels. If, however, this view of the evil of sin belongs 
to that class of proofs, which do not implant abiding convic- 
tions, because they do not impale themselves beyond all 
controversy, still, it is from eternity, in some form, that the 
death of Christ derives its unspeakable power of " convin- 
cing of sin." We, indeed, may not see nor feel this, whilst 
beholding the Lamb of God taking away the sin of the 
world. The glory veiled, and the vials broken, and the 
agonies endured, on that solemn occasion, seem more than 
enough, without a reference to eternity, to account for all 
our deepest convictions of the evil of sin. The darkness 
and tempest around the cross, whilst they cover and con- 
vulse the heavens and the earth, seem to render all refer- 
ence to the eternal " blackness of darkness" unnecessary. 
But even on Calvary, and at the very crisis of the atoning 
sacrifice, eternity is present to the mind, however much it 
may be absorbed with the sufferings of Christ. For, were 
a doubt of the eternal punishment of sin to flash across the 
mind, at that moment; or were the wrath he redeemed 
from not eternal ; both the dread and the hatred of sin, 
which the cross inspires, would not be what they are in 
the heart of believers. But we are, however unconsciously 
and unintentionally, glancing from time to time at the eter- 
nity of the wrath which He is delivering from. There is 
mingled with all our emotious of grief and gratitude, a real, 
thougli secret, reference to the eternity of misery, which, 
but for his atonement, would have been our inevitable por- 



28S SPIRITUAL DECLENSION, FROM 

tion ; and to the eternity of happiness which, by faith in his 
atonement, may be our inheritance. 

This is only saying in other words, that we are not in- 
sensible to the design of the atonement, whilst most affected 
by its solemnities. Indeed, the very reason why our thoughts 
and feelings are so concentrated on the cross, and so ab- 
sorbed by the wonders of redemption, is because the re- 
demption of the cross is eternal. For, were it not so, 
neither its attraction nor its influence could be so powerful. 
It being, therefore, self-evident that eternity set the con- 
firming seal upon those convictions of the evil and danger 
of sin, which shut us up to Christ for pardon, and to the 
Spirit for sanctification, it is certain that sin, if shifted out 
of this light, will not be so dreaded as to endear the cross, 
nor so hated as to honour the Holy Spirit. For as we should 
not have fled to the Saviour or to the Sanctifier. had we not 
seen the flaming sword of the law in the hand of eternity, 
neither shall we cleave to them steadfastly, if we cease to 
view sin in this connexion. Nor is this all : there is no 
small danger of even tampering with sin, if it be not looked 
at in this light. All backsliding of heart and life is brought 
on by losing sight of eternity. No one forsakes " the foun- 
tain of living waters," whilst its waters sparkle with the light 
of eternity. No one drinks from polluted streams, until he 
has shaded them from that light. 

If, again, your personal piety began in impressive and 
exalted views of the divine character and government, it was 
eternity that invested them with power and glory. "What- 
ever lovely view of God first affected and won your heart, 
the perfection of its beauty was in the fact, that " this God 
is our God, for ever and ever." Whatever solemn view of 
God awed your spirit, its weight lay in the consideration, 
that " from everlasting," such had been his majesty, and 
" to everlasting," such it would be. Whatever attraction or 
terror brought you under the shadow of his wings, the full 
sense of safety came from this, " the eternal God is thy ref- 
uge." And whenever you have felt through all your soul, 



NOT REALIZING ETERNITY. 289 

that his "loving kindness is better than life," it was the 
eternity of it that eclipsed the charms of life, and softened 
the aspect of death. 

The fact is, that, in all om first intentional and deliberate 
contemplations of God, and approaches to God, we were 
thinking and acting with an express reference to eternity : 
for, at first, they had nothing else to terminate upon. Now, 
that we have a name, or a place, or both, to maintain in the 
church and the world, our prayers and meditations often 
terminate on them. Our immediate solicitude often goes 
no farther than to be kept from forfeiting or disgracing our 
profession ; whereas, before we made a public profession 
of religion, it went all the length of eternal safety at once. 
Now, however, we usually advance to this final point, step 
by step. It is, of course, still our goal : but, at first, it was 
both our goal and our starting-place. We began and ended 
our devotional exercises, with an express regard to our 
future state. We had not then given to the world or the 
church, solemn pledges of faith or repentance. We had 
not committed ourselves, publicly, to any creed, service, or 
connexion. All our piety was then personal ; and irre- 
sponsible to man. It implicated the character of no church, 
nor the tendency of any system. All its actings had their 
source and centre in our individual salvation. But now 
they have other bearings and motives ; and these, although 
not different from the former, are yet distinct enough to 
divide our attention between time and eternity. Accord- 
ingly, many of our prayers, and more of our thoughts, ter- 
minate upon present consistency, rather than upon future 
safety ; upon living well, rather than upon dying well. 

This, of course, is not to be regretted. Our daily prayers 
and meditations ought to bear, with point and power, on 
the duties and trials of the day, We cannot die happy, if 
we do not live to some good purpose. It is, however, 
equally true, that the concentration of all our solicitude upon 
a godly life, is not the best way of maintaining personal 
godliness. More than effort is necessary, in order to follow 

vol. i. — 25 



290 FAITH, BELIEVING UNTO 

holiness well. Motives must be freely admitted, if rules 
and laws are to be cheerfully or impartially obeyed. In a 
word : our time will not be well spent, if our eternity be 
seldom realized. Whilst, therefore, it would be highly im- 
proper to lessen our attention to the practical duties of life 
or godliness, it is also highly imprudent to allow even them 
to divert our attention from eternity. But for its solemn in- 
fluence, we had never believed nor obeyed the gospel from 
the heart ; and, therefore, that influence must be cherished, 
if we would continue to believe or obey. Having begun as 
immortal, we must not go on as mortal. Having set out as 
the children of eternity, we must not subside into mere 
children of time. That would be another form of the Gala- 
tian error. Gal. iii. 3. 



No. VI. 

FAITH, BELIEVING UNTO ETERNAL LIFE. 

Well might the believing of the primitive Christians be 
called, " precious faith," and " most holy faith :" for its in- 
fluence upon their spirits was equally soothing and cheer- 
ing ; and upon their character, equally ennobling and sancti- 
fying. No man can think lightly of their joy or peace in 
believing. Their joy was " unspeakable and full of glory ;" 
and their peace surpassed "all understanding." Every one 
whose heart has ever ached, whose conscience has ever 
smarted, whose spirits have ever been low, can and must 
envy such joy and peace. Even our modern Balaams, 
who are absorbed in the love of the world, must ac- 
knowledge that this is a joy which the world cannot give, 
and a peace which they do not find ; for even they have 
intervals of depression and pain which quite qualify them, 



ETERNAL LIFE. 291 

at the time, to comprehend how the first Christians were 
happier in poverty, than they are with wealth. And, if 
worldlings can judge thus, from mere " vexation of spirit," 
no wonder if we who have had, in addition to our share of 
that vexation, spiritual discoveries of our guilt and danger, 
should envy the spiritual happiness of the primitive be- 
lievers. We can appreciate their joy as saints, because 
we have experienced something of their sorrows and fears 
as sinners. Our souls have been in their souls' place, when 
" the iron entered" into them ; and, therefore, we naturally 
wish our souls to be also in their place, when all their 
wounds were healed, and all their fears dispelled. We 
have joined them in the solemn question, " What shall I do 
to be saved ?" and, therefore, we wish to join them in the 
triumphant song, " Unto him who loved us, and washed us 
from our sins in his own blood." We have had fellowship 
of spirit with them in the piercing cry, " Lord save, I 
perish ;" and we desire communion with them in the grate- 
ful acknowledgment, "He hath saved us, and called us 
with a holy calling." We have been partakers of their 
fears of the wrath to come ; and, therefore, we long to be 
partakers of their good and lively hope of the glory to be 
revealed. 

Not that we are utter strangers to all peace or joy in 
believing. It is because we have tasted something of both, 
that we are so intent on " drinking abundantly" of the cup 
of salvation. The difference between our spiritual happi- 
ness, and that of the first believers, is not one of kind, but 
of degree. They seem to have had an abiding spirit of 
adoption ; an abiding sense of pardon and acceptance ; an 
abiding witness of the Holy Spirit ; an abiding confidence 
in the wisdom of Providence and the sufficiency of grace. 
I mean, abiding, as compared with the extreme changeable- 
ness of modern joy and peace. Their happiness was not 
absolutely unchangeable, nor uniform ; but their alternations 
of hope and fear — of light and darkness — of assurance and 
doubt, were neither so great nor any thing like so frequent 



292 FAITH, BELIEVING UNTO 

as our changes. This is so true and striking, that we have 
often questioned the reality of our own faith, on the single 
ground of its failing to produce such joy and peace as they 
experienced. Indeed, we "are sometimes tempted to sus- 
pect, that much of their comfort must have sprung from the 
miraculous gifts of the Spirit, as well as from his gracious 
influences ; and that, thus, it is impossible to acquire, now, 
so much enjoyment. This, however, even if true to a far 
greater extent than can be proved or suspected, was coun- 
terbalanced by the peculiar and manifold trials of the prim- 
itive Christians. Any miraculous gifts which the gener- 
ality had, were not more than a counterpoise to their fiery 
trials, from which we are exempt. Our dispensation of 
Providence is a better boon, and more adapted to promote 
spiritual enjoyment, than their dispensation of the Spirit — 
so far it was miraculous. Accordingly, neither their joy 
nor peace is ever explained, by a reference to their gifts, 
but always ascribed to the abundance of grace. As the 
Saviour taught the apostles and evangelists to rejoice, " be- 
cause their names were written in heaven," so they taught 
their converts to find their comfort in the everlasting gospel 
itself, and not in evanescent endowments. We must not 
look at circumstances, therefore, for the secret of that 
" strong consolation" which was so common in the apos- 
tolic churches. Nothing that was supernatural in their lot, 
exceeded what was trying to flesh and blood in it. As on 
the globe, the greatest seas are hung opposite the greatest 
mountains, to balance them, so floods of affliction were not 
more than counterpoised by miracles. 

What, then, was the real secret of that copious, calm, and 
holy enjoyment, which the first believers so habitually pos- 
sessed 1 They had no foundation of hope, that we have 
not : no warrant or welcome to build on the Rock of Ages, 
that we have not : no promises nor prospects, that we have 
not. Jesus Christ is the same in our " day," as He was in 
their " yesterday." The Tree of Life bends its loaded and 
luxuriant branches, as fully down to our hands, as it did to 



ETERNAL LIFE. 293 

their hands. Why is it, then, that whilst we see those 
who came first around that tree, healed by its leaves, and 
cheered by its fruit, many of us are afraid to taste, and 
more of us but half-healed and half-refreshed ? Now, the 
fact is, they " eat" for the express and immediate purpose 
that they might " Live for ever." Their faith was, from 
the beginning to the end, a direct "looking for the mercy 
of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life." 

This fact, thus stated, may not strike you at first sight. 
There is, however, more in it than meets the eye at once. 
Immediate and express believing for eternal life, is not so 
common nor so habitual as it seems. All real faith has, of 
course, eternal life as its grand and final object ; and, in 
this respect, we, as much as the first believers, have, as the 
end of our faith, " the salvation" of our souls, " with eter- 
nal joy." But if we make this a remote object, and if they 
made it their immediate object, there will, there must, be 
a difference between our faith and theirs, as to degree, 
which cannot fail to produce a corresponding difference of 
comfort. Now, what is the sober fact, in regard to the or- 
dinary and everyday exercise of our faith in Christ ? The 
truth is, it neither embraces nor aims at much beyond safety 
for the day; and the consequence is, that it gathers but 
little strength from such exercise. On days of peculiar 
trial or temptation, it is put upon the stretch, and compelled 
to draw largely upon the provisions of the everlasting cov- 
enant. In like manner, on days of peculiar refreshing in 
the sanctuary, it is charmed into lively exercise and lofty 
aspiration. But, in general, these extraordinary actings of 
faith are called forth by extraordinary circumstances ; and, 
accordingly, whilst we are not much tried or tempted, nor 
powerfully stirred up by spirit-stirring appeals, we put forth 
no more faith than just what will keep us from going back 
in religion ; and, alas, not always so much ! Now, such 
tame and restricted believing cannot lead to much or strong 
consolation. It is not conversant with the sources of spirit- 
ual comfort. Paul, with all his charity, would not say to 
25* 



294 FAITH, BELIEVING UNTO 

us, whilst our faith was thus idle, " Now the God of hope 
fill you with joy and peace in believing." Such believing 
would incur his censure, or throw him upon his knees to 
pray for an increase of our faith. 

We must, however, go still deeper into the ordinary state 
of our minds, before we can see clearly the grand cause of 
the difference between the degree of our own comfort, and 
that of the first believers. Now our tendency is, to defer 
believing for eternity, until we come to the verge of eterni- 
ty. We do not like to bring the matter of final safety to a 
full issue every day ; nor to go far into it any day, whilst 
we feel no pressing occasion. Like those who shrink from 
making their last will, lest such a distinct recognition of 
their mortality should shorten their life, we are inclined to 
leave the question of our personal safety unsettled, whilst 
we are in health. We have no objection to such a state of 
mind, from day to day, as would furnish all the materials for 
dying well, if a sudden summons should come. We are 
even willing to be, to a considerable extent, " as men wait- 
ing for the coming of their Lord." Not, however, alas ! 
because we long or wish for his coming; we do not desire 
it, until we have no other prospect ; but we do feel the ne- 
cessity of not forgetting it, nor preparation for it altogether. 
We dread the bare idea of being found " asleep," or with 
"lamps gone out," when our Lord cometh. We wish to 
have our lamps so far filled and trimmed, that they shall 
burst into a steady flame, the moment we are called to meet 
the Bridegroom. This is, however, almost all that we can 
say, with perfect truth, concerning the habitual tone of our 
piety. We leave much to be done and settled on our death- 
bed. We content ourselves with doing pretty well from 
day to day ; and postpone to our last days, the full settle- 
ment of eur personal interest in Christ. So much uncer- 
tainty do we allow to hang over this question, that we actu- 
ally promise to crowd the close of life with mightier and more 
pointed acts of faith on the Son of God, than any that we put 
forth now. And we feel that it will be necessary to do so 



ETERNAL LIFE. 295 

then, if we would be either triumphant or tranquil in death. 
Hence the intense solicitude we occasionally pour into that 
hymn, 

" for an overcoming faith, 
To cheer my dying hours !" 

Now all this shows how little immediate and express 
reference our daily faith has to eternal life. It terminates 
more on present comfort than on future safety ; on moment- 
ary ease, than on everlasting glory. And then — it is so 
easy to believe for all the daily mercy and grace which we 
feel in need of, whilst there is nothing very trying in our 
lot, that our faith is not able to meet emergencies, when 
they come unexpectedly upon us. In fact, we suspect that 
it is little better than unbelief, when we feel how it fails, 
whenever we are compelled to look death steadfastly in the 
face. I pray you to mark this usual effect of the prospect 
of death, on our ordinary faith. When any thing like a mortal 
qualm quivers around the heart ; or any disorder assumes a 
fatal aspect ; or any stroke of death falls so near us as to stun 
us, or as to startle us into a keen sense of personal and pres- 
sing danger, we naturally betake ourselves to the exercise 
of believing prayer. Knowing that to be our only resource, 
we flee to it at once. But, lo ! all is hurry, and flatter, and 
confusion, in our spirit. We seem to have no faith ! Like 
Hezekiah, we turn our face to the wall, and weep bitterly ; 
we are so shocked to find that we had contented ourselves 
v/ith a kind of faith which seldom, or but slightly, faced the 
dread solemnities of death and eternity ; or with a degree 
of faith, which had always shrunk from them, and now sunk 
under them. 

These are awful moments, and humiliating discoveries ! 
How we upbraid ourselves during their pressure, for the in- 
decision, the folly, the infatuation, of a process of believing, 
which did not go all the length of looking daily for mercy, 
" unto eternal life." How we resolve that, if spared, we 
will make sure work for eternity ; and enter upon a new 



296 FAITH, BELIEVING UNTO 

life of faith on the Son of God, which shall deserve the name 
of faith. Accordingly, we did, for a time, after being thus 
startled and humbled, set ourselves in good earnest, to 
believe unto the saving of our souls, with an everlasting 
salvation. We returned to the point and "spirit of our first 
applications to the Saviour. We knelt at the mercy-seat, 
laying hold of the cross with one hand, and of eternal life 
with the other hand. We thus kept in view the final end 
of faith, as well as its immediate objects ; and honestly told 
ourselves, that any thing less than meeting the whole ques- 
tion of final safety, must render the next approach of death 
as overwhelming as the former. 

We remember all this well. It is, therefore, humiliating 
to confess, that, notwithstanding this solemn lesson, and 
after acting on it for some time, we have again and again 
relapsed into our old habit of resting in half measures ; and 
of living, praying, and believing for the day, and not for 
eternity. We continue, indeed, " looking for the mercy of 
our Lord Jesus Christ," every day ; but not, every day, 
looking for it, " unto eternal life." 

By this time you are willing to go into the question, how 
came the primitive Christians to acquire such a realizing 
and habitual sense of the glory and solemnity of eternal 
life 1 How did they manage to keep on believing up to the 
" end " of faith ? The real answer to this question cannot 
be short, and satisfactory too. It is necessary, in order to 
understand their case, to have the whole of it before us, 
both in substance and detail. 

Observe, then, how their faith was solicited and enforced, 
in the first instance. Now, it was not claimed, at the out- 
set, by temporal nor by temporary considerations. The first 
appeals they heard, on behalf of faith in Christ, were not 
founded on the reasonableness of faith ; nor on its holy 
influence ; nor on the mere criminality of unbelief; but on 
the eternal advantages of believing in Christ. Everlasting 
happiness was the first thing proposed to them by the gos- 
pel. It said nothing to them about the beauty or the ne- 



ETERNAL LIFE. 297 

cessity of holiness, until it had made to them a full disclo- 
sure, and a free offer, of that glorious heaven, which 
deserves all the holiness it demands ; — nothing to them 
about the duty or the privilege of prayer, until it had pre- 
sented to them the prospect of that eternal communion with 
God and the Lamb, of which prayer is the pledge and the 
prelude ; — nothing to them about joining the church, or 
celebrating her sacraments, until it had tried upon their 
souls all the attractions of the church of the first-born, and 
of the marriage-supper of the Lamb, in heaven. Thus 
eternal life was the grand thing which they began to be- 
lieve on Christ for. Their faith did not, indeed, stop there : 
nor was it allowed to overlook any of the practical designs 
of the gospel. It was not, however, made, in the first in- 
stance, to travel through them, step by step, until it reached 
the hope of glory, as the result of obedience ; but it was 
lifted to that immortal hope at once, and then led into all 
the paths of virtue and holiness. Thus an almost personi- 
fied eternity, in all its grandeur, placed before them the 
high claims of the Saviour on their confidence and subjec- 
tion. Their faith was asked and won, amidst vivid visions 
of the pealing harps, the sparkling crowns, and the eternal 
mansions, of the general assembly in heaven. Nor was 
this all. That "opened" heaven came before them, con- 
fronted with an equally opened hell. They had, therefore, 
in believing, to look all that glory, and all that wrath, full 
in the face ; and to believe up to the point of deliverance 
from that wrath, and of a title to that glory. 

Now, need I say that, in order to the exercise of such 
faith, they must have looked closer and oftener at " the 
mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ," than if they had only been 
believing in order to be fit for baptism and the sacrament ; 
or for the purpose of becoming better, and being in the right 
way 1 You see, at a glance, that their views of his mercy 
must have been as vast and vivid as their views of heaven 
and hell ; and their faith in his mercy as strong as their 
faith in eternal things. Slight notions of the person or 



298 FAITH, BELIEVING UNTO 

work of Christ, and doubtful faith in Him, would not have 
lifted them over the fear of perishing, nor up to the hope of 
salvation. And, as they found enough in the Lamb slain 
to meet all the wants and perils of their case, no wonder if 
they continued looking for his mercy unto eternal life. 
The needle of their faith was so magnetized by eternity at 
first, that it turned to that pole for ever after. 

Now, did our believing begin thus ? Had it such a full 
and distinct reference to " eternal redemption ?" Perhaps 
not exactly. It had, however, a pointed reference to escape 
from the wrath to come, at first ; and, if it has a less point- 
ed one now, that is one reason why our comfort is less than 
that of the primitive believers. They did not satisfy them- 
selves with believing that their escape was possible ; nor 
with believing that it was not improbable ; nor with be- 
lieving that they were as likely to escape as others. They 
did not hush up nor hurry over the great question in this 
sluggish and superficial way. They seem to have both 
avoided and disdained that half-way faith, which places 
itself just so near the Refuge, that it can, as it imagines, 
llee into it on a moment's warning. Indeed, they seem to 
have had no idea of that paltry policy in religion, which 
just abstains from going altogether out of sight of the Cross, 
or out of reach of the Refuge : but which abstains equally 
from coming under their shadow or their authority. This 
was not the religion of the first Christians. Nothing stifled 
or stilled their cry, " What shall we do to be saved," but a 
faith which could say, " We believe that through the grace 
of our Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be saved." Even good 
signs did not satisfy them. We never hear any of them 
banishing or balancing their sense of danger, by an appeal 
to the convictions they felt under one sermon ; or to the 
tears they shed under another ; or to the vows they made 
at the sacrament ; or to the prayers they poured out in the 
day of trouble. They did not, of course, think lightly of 
these things, nor exclude them from the catalogue of ex- 
perimental exercises : but neither did they rest in them as 



ETERNAL LIFE. 299 

grounds of safety, nor allow them to keep the soul from 
making a full and final committal of itself into the hands of 
Christ. Indeed, they could not compromise their safety 
in this way ; because they did not, or durst not, shut their 
eyes on either the eternal heaven which had captivated 
them, nor on the eternal hell which had alarmed them. 

Now, if we feel that there has been, in our own case, a 
less impression of, or a less reference to, heaven and hell ; 
and, that in consequence of this estrangement of our thoughts 
from eternity, we have rather gone on looking for mercy, 
" unto," a longlife, or an easy life, or even a good life, than 
" unto eternal life ;" it is necessary, and it is high time, to 
resume our first views of the great salvation, and even to 
brighten them by profounder meditation. 

Another circumstance which gave point and power to the 
faith of the first Christians was, that they were the first. I 
do not mean by this, the sublimity nor the responsibility of 
the distinction. They could hardly be aware of either, for 
some time. What I mean is, that they were not influenced 
in their believing, by the memory of their parents and other 
departed friends ; and, thus, were in no danger of mistaking 
an hereditary creed, for personal faith ; or veneration of a 
parent's piety, for love to his God and Saviour. They had 
no family links between their hearts and heaven, when they 
began to believe unto eternal life. No last injunction of a 
dying father or mother induced them to flee from the 
wrath to come. None of the Gentiles, at least, had upon 
their soul a solemn charge from any departing spirit, to pre- 
pare to meet it on the right of the Judge ; but each convert 
had to act on the force of his own convictions, and of his 
own faith in the gospel. 

Now, this, although no enviable position, was not unfa- 
vourable to decision of character. The very pain of these 
circumstances promoted sincerity and promptitude. Every 
Gentile convert had to act for himself, and on his own re- 
sources, in forming those views of faith and practice, which 
form the character for heaven. Whatever, therefore, he 



300 FAITH, BELIEVING UNTO 

lacked of relative motive, he was not diverted from personal 
decision, by family hopes or habits. 

We cannot, of course, regret, but must rejoice, that heaven 
comes before us not desolate of ancestral spirits. It is no 
small part of our happiness to believe, that some of those, 
who were nearest and dearest to us on earth, are now be- 
fore the throne ; and even there continue to love us, and to 
long for us to join them. These are golden links between 
our hearts and heaven ! and might be expected, as they are 
well calculated, to draw our thoughts and affections very 
often and very far heavenward. And they have this sweet 
influence, whenever we allow them to exert it. It is, how- 
ever, necessary to take care lest this ardent love to those 
who are " for ever with the Lord," be mistaken for love to 
the Lord himself. For, although we cannot love them too 
ardently, we are in danger of loving him too coldly ; and 
of looking more at heaven in the softened form of meeting 
them, than in the solemn form of meeting God. It was in 
the latter form chiefly, that the first Christians looked at 
eternity; and, therefore, their piety was an habitual prep- 
aration to meet God. And, surely, ours ought not, need 
not, to be different, seeing we expect to meet so many en- 
deared spirits at the same time with him ! For, so far as this 
fond hope softens the solemn interview which we anticipate, 
so far it ought to increase and quicken our anticipations of it. 

Another circumstance which gave great point and con- 
clusiveness to the faith of the first believers, was, the peril 
of life at which they became Christians. An open and 
avowed " looking for the mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ, 
unto eternal life," was, in fact, the risking of temporal life, 
as well as of property, and freedom, and reputation. It 
required, therefore, an habitual looking at the things which 
are unseen and eternal, in order to balance at all the loss of 
the things which are seen and temporal. Nothing less than 
such a familiarity with their " enduring substance in heaven," 
could have reconciled or enabled them to peril life and sub- 
stance on earth as they did. 



ETERNAL LIFE. 301 

Their heavenly-mindedness was not, however, the virtue 
of necessity, on their part. They did not take up with 
heaven, because of the peculiar uncertainty of life and 
property at the time ; but, for the sake of eternal life, they 
voluntarily and deliberately hazarded every thing. Their 
privations were the effects, not the cause, of their choice. 
Nor did they repent of that choice, when its effects proved 
fatal. In vain, therefore, do we attempt to excuse, by the 
tendency of easier circumstances, our inferior heavenly- 
mindedness. We are not, indeed, thrown so directly and 
constantly on eternity for comfort, as they were. We have 
more " vineyards in the wilderness" than they had. The 
lines are fallen to us in pleasant places, and we have a 
goodly heritage, compared with their lot. But, do we, dare 
we, turn this into a reason, or an excuse, for thinking but 
seldom and slightly of the glory to be revealed ? A heart 
thoroughly and habitually " right with God," would find in 
this change for the better, nothing but reasons and motives 
for a higher degree of heavenly-mindedness ; because we 
thus possess more time, and convenience, and composure, 
for devotional habits. 

Besides, there is even in the ordinary uncertainty of life, 
what ought to be quite enough to turn the eye upon eternity 
every day. How often we are shocked or surprised by 
sudden deaths, in the circle of our own acquaintance 1 
How often we see that no age, however promising, and no 
office, however important, is any absolute security against 
sudden death ? And now that Pestilence is in the country, 
how loud is the call, " Be ye also ready ?" That virulent 
disease leaves neither time nor power for clearing up 
doubtful conversions, or for healing backslidings. Its vic- 
tims must go into eternity in the dark, if it find them un- 
prepared or ill prepared. It gives no space for repentance, 
and no intervals for prayer. As the tree stands it must 
fall, and as it falls it must lie, beneath the stroke of this 
axe ! Those only are prepared for this death, who are be- 
lieving " unto eternal life." 

vol. i.— 26 



302 ETERNITY REALIZED 



No. VII. 
ETERNITY REALIZED IN THE SANCTUARY. 

If Jacob could regard his anointed pillar on Bethel, as 
" none other than the house of God," and, therefore, as 
"the gate of heaven," we may well and easily recognise 
in the Christian sanctuary, the gate of heaven ; for its 
oracles and ordinances reveal far more of heaven than the 
vision of the mystic ladder did, and are far more calculated 
to make us meet for the inheritance of the saints in light. 
We, indeed, see no angels ascending or descending in the 
house of God ; but we have, in its lively oracles and ex- 
pressive ordinances, what is more instructive than any 
vision of silent angels could be ; for Jacob's angels were 
all silent on Bethel. God, indeed, spake to him there ; 
but, how little, compared with our ample volume of reve- 
lation. 

It is quite needless to contrast farther our " gate of heav- 
en," with that on Bethel : it is, however, very necessary to 
compare our own views and feelings towards the sanctuary, 
with those of Jacob ; for, if he loved and revered Bethel, 
as a pledge and prelude of the heavenly temple, it surely 
becomes us to imitate him in our Zion. It is more like 
heaven, and more linked to it, than any anointed pillar on 
a bleak mountain could be, however consecrated. When 
the ministers of the sanctuary affirm this fact, and, on the 
ground of it, enforce regular and reverential attendance on 
public worship, they as much proclaim what their own 
character and preaching ought to be, as what our character 
and feelings ought to be. An unholy minister never ex- 
poses himself more to contempt, than when he stands for- 
ward to assert a connexion between his sanctuary and heav- 
en ; and thus to enforce its claims on our regard. We both 
dispute and despise the claim, so far as he is concerned. 

It is a very different dilemma, but still a real dilemma, 



IN THE SANCTUARY. 303 

when a minister, although not unholy, has neither talents 
nor learning to justify at all the demands upon our attention 
which he puts forward in the name of the sanctuary and 
the Sabbath. Their claims and his are certainly not iden- 
tical. We cannot acquire knowledge from an ignorant 
man, nor wisdom from a weak man, however good his char- 
acter or his intentions may be. Indeed, the weightier the 
claims of the house and day of God are, the lighter are 
those of men, 

" Who cannot teach, and will not learn ;" 

and yet, unfortunately, such men are most forward to mix 
themselves up with the divine authority of religious ordi- 
nances. 

Eminently holy ministers, of inferior acquirements, never 
fall into this mistake, nor place themselves in this awkward 
dilemma. Their superior holiness renders it impossible for 
them to talk or think of what is owing to their office in the 
church. Accordingly, their only wonder is, and it is sin- 
cere, that their ministry is attended at all. Worthy men i 
In the godly simplicity of their hearts, they forget that there 
is a charm in their holy and heavenly unction, which no 
judicious Christian would exchange for mere eloquence or 
learning. Such shepherds will never be without a flock, 
whilst there are sheep or lambs in the fold of God, who 
prefer refreshment to amusement, and food to excitement. 
The success of men, who are lost in their message, is 
neither marvellous nor mysterious. Humanly speaking, 
it may be " a wonder unto many ;" but, divinely speaking, 
it is only what might be expected. 

But, whatever be the talents, the acquirements, or the 
piety of a minister, he places himself in a very delicate 
position, whenever he commends or enforces the claims of 
the house of God, as " the gate of heaven." We ought, 
then, to hear him with great candour, and even to sympa- 
thize with him ; for the question, " Is my preaching in char- 
acter — is my spirit in harmony, with these high claims ?" 



304 ETERNITY REALIZED 

is pressing heavily on his heart. The bare consideration, 
that neither his ministerial character nor spirit is in contrast 
to the heavenliness of the sanctuary, is not enough, when 
this is his theme, to maintain his usual composure ! He 
feels through all his soul, that words will not prove to us, 
that the house of God is the gate of heaven. He is pene- 
trated with the conviction, that assertions, however solemn, 
and arguments, however strong, will and must fail to imbue 
us with the spirit of Jacob, unless a double portion of that 
heavenly spirit rest upon himself. He even feels sure, that 
the more Zion is complimented in words, the less she will 
be venerated, unless his own unction illustrate her claims. 
Such a man, therefore, deserves both our candour and grati- 
tude, whenever he tries to dignify or endear the sanctuary, 
by proving that — 

" The Holy to the Holiest leads." 

It is, then, desirable and necessary, that our ministers should 
regard the house of God as the gate of heaven ; and both 
preach and pray under a realizing sense of this sublime fact. 
Without the cultivation of this spirit and habit on their part, 
there will be a lack of spirituality on our part. It should 
not, however, depend chiefly on the minister, whether the 
ordinances and fellowship of Zion shall, or shall not, be to 
us, the foretastes of heaven. We have free access to all 
the sources, both of information and influence, which war- 
rant or enable him to connect the church on earth with the 
church in heaven. Let us, therefore, familiarize ourselves, 
devotionally, with those scriptural views of the sanctuary, 
which arc most heavenly ; that thus we may feel its claims 
to love and veneration, even when he fails to plead them in 
demonstration of the Spirit ; and that we may enjoy its 
ordinances when he succeeds in throwing the light of 
eternity upon them. 

Now, it would be strange, indeed, if the house of God 
were not represented in the Scriptures, as the gate of 
heaven. It must be so — if the character of God be the 



IN THE SANCTUARY. 305 

same in heaven as it is on earth. It must be so — if the 
first principles and final end of his worship be the same in 
both worlds. This is self-evident. God would not teach 
us on earth, what we should have to unlearn in heaven. 
He would not train us here, on principles which had no 
place there. No ; we are now learning the lessons, and 
acquiring the character, which eternity will perfect and 
perpetuate. The paternal and covenant character of God 
in Christ, has no change to undergo, when we exchange 
worlds. It will be more clearly seen, and more fully en- 
joyed, as to degrees of light and joy, but not as to kind. 
God, as he is now known in Zion, will be " our God for 
ever and ever." 

Were there nothing to endear the sanctuary to us but this 
one fact, we might well regard it as the gate of heaven. 
No work nor wonder of nature presents the divine charac- 
ter in that light, in which it is seen and enjoyed in the up- 
per sanctuary. Paternal views of God may be transferred 
from his house to his creation ; but no scene of creation is 
a gate of heaven. The loveliest is too cold, and the sub- 
limest too dark, to shadow forth " our Father," as he is " in 
heaven." This, however, the oracles and ordinances of 
Zion do effectually. They present God to us, in the very 
relation in which he stands, and w r ill sustain for ever, 
towards all the redeemed spirits before his throne. 

How this fact ought to dignify and endear Zion in our esti- 
mation ! Its courts are more than " holy ground ;" they 
are heavenly too. David understood the matter thus, when 
he said, " One thing have I desired of the Lord, and that 
will I seek after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord 
all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord." 
He knew that His beauty there, was the same in substance 
as in the heaven of heavens ; and, therefore, he gave a 
decided preference to that place where God appears likest 
to what He is and ever will be, on the throne. Let this be 
present to our minds, whenever we appear before God in 
Zion. Let us say to ourselves, as we go to his house — I 

27* 



306 ETERNITY REALIZED 

am about to contemplate God, and to commune with Him, 
in the very character which he will sustain through eternity. 
There is that in his paternal love and glory, which will for 
ever secure my love, and delight my soul, when all my 
powers are perfect and immortal. I shall never, never tire 
of viewing him as my father ; and never, never fail to find 
joy unspeakable from this near and dear relationship. It 
will gratify and satisfy me to all eternity. Surely, then, I 
may well love the place where he most displays his pater- 
nal character ; and well fill up the time with a theme that 
will fill eternity. 

We may not, indeed, always enter into the spirit of this 
consideration, when we enter the sanctuary ; but, by at- 
tempting to do so always, we shall learn a valuable lesson 
even when we fail. Let us, therefore, say to ourselves, 
when we leave the house of God without delight in his 
character — An eternity of this estrangement of heart from 
God, w r ould be intolerable ! An eternity of dark and harsh 
views of God would be horrible ! Why should I ever 
entertain such views ? The house of God is the gate of 
heaven ; and, therefore, I am warranted to cherish such 
views of his character now, as will, when perfect, cheer 
me for ever. Let me not, then, indulge ideas of God, 
which I would not carry into heaven. Let me not think 
of Him now, as I shall never think of Him — 

" Whilst immortality endures." 

The connexion of the house of God with the Saviour, 
also, renders it emphatically the gate of heaven. The grand 
reason why nature presents no gates of heaven, is, that it 
gives no intimations of a Saviour. There is nothing in all 
the range of its most radiant glories which suggests one 
idea of heaven ; except so far as revelation has employed 
them as emblems of it. Apart from that, they throw no 
light upon the invisible world. But the sanctuary is so 
founded upon Christ, and so full of express references to 



IN THE SANCTUARY. 307 

him, that it is very like all that we know of heaven, both 
as a state, and as a place. The determination of ministers 
to know nothing amongst us, save Jesus Christ, and him 
crucified, is akin to the constancy with which saints and 
angels sing, " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain." The 
adoring humility and gratitude with which believers ascribe 
all their salvation to Him, are not unlike the emotions which 
lead all the spirits of the just to cast their crowns at his 
feet. The church on earth, at the sacramental supper, is 
not altogether unlike the church in heaven, at the marriage- 
supper of the Lamb. " The new song" of both churches 
is the same. And when the whole assembly mingle their 
hearts and voices in the grand hallelujah chorus of that 
song, there is nothing on earth so like unto heaven. There 
are, indeed, many and sad dissimilarities ; and it would be 
unwise to forget them. But still, after making all the de- 
ductions which truth requires, there remains more of the 
aspect and spirit of heaven in Zion, than can be found in 
any other assembly. There is, alas, too little of the image 
of Christ, and less of his spirit, in his churches ; but, no- 
where else is there so much of either. It is, therefore, 
both unwise and improper to allow the imperfections, or 
even the spots, of the church on earth, to hide from us her 
relationship and resemblance to heaven. He is only " wise 
in his own conceit," who stands aloof from her fellowship, 
under the pretence that no church is pure enough for his 
taste. Such wilful '* aliens from the commonwealth of 
Israel," are, in general, not pure enough for the sacraments 
of any church, which requires sterling character as the con- 
dition of communion. 

Besides, there are in every conscientious church a goodly 
number who both bear the image and breathe the spirit of 
Christ ; who are walking humbly and circumspectly in the 
narrow way that leadeth to life ; who are bearing their own 
crosses, and each other's burdens, well ; and trying to live 
" as heirs together of the grace of life ;" and these, we know, 
shall inherit heaven. We calculate on sitting down with 



308 ETERNITY REALIZED 

them in the kingdom of God. Why not, then, sit down 
with them here, in humble anticipation of associating with 
them there ? In no other way can we cultivate that kind 
of Christian fellowship which prevails in heaven, and 
which we expect to share and reciprocate through eternal 
ages. And, as the Saviour will be the grand centre of 
that fellowship, and of all the other felicities of heaven, why 
not use and enjoy the sacramental pledges of them now, as 
preludes of eventual communion with Him, and with all 
who are His ? This would render the house of God, em- 
phatically, the gate of heaven to us ; for nothing is so like the 
bliss or the business of eternity as the joint celebration of 
redeeming love. 

The holiness, also, required and promoted by the house 
of God, renders it both an emblem and a pledge of Heaven. 
There is far more similarity between the terms of com- 
munion in the church militant, and the terms of admittance 
into the church triumphant, than is usually noticed. It is, 
however, just as true that the unclean, the intemperate, and 
the dishonest, should be kept out, and cast out, of the church 
on earth, as that they shall not enter into the church in 
heaven. This general law is the same in both worlds. 
Nothing that defileth shall enter the gates of the New Jeru- 
salem ; and none who are immoral ought to be allowed to 
remain in the fellowship of Zion. " Purge out," says 
Paul, " the old leaven." 1 Cor. v. 7, 13. 

Had this apostolic rule been acted upon, honestly and 
uniformly, there would have been less difficulty in proving 
that — 

" The church on earth, and all the dead, 
But one communion make ;" 

for it requires but little candour, and less imagination, to 
regard a body of holy persons, as akin to " the spirits of just 
men made perfect." Holiness and heaven are ideas which 
naturally blend, and suggest each other. We never see an 



IN THE SANCTUARY. 309 

eminently holy man, without thinking of heaven. We feel 
as sure that he belongs to it, as we should if we saw an 
angel. How readily and vividly, therefore, would a holy 
church bring before our minds that glorious church which 
is without spot before the throne ? Well, there are 
churches, which, to say the least, are not unholy. Their 
general character is pure and peaceable. Their moral 
worth gives them moral weight. Their watchfulness to 
keep out, and to cast out, uuworthy communicants, entitles 
them (whatever name they bear) to the respect and grati- 
tude of all who believe that the church should be a nursery 
for heaven. 

Do we, then, belong to a holy church ? If so, how use- 
ful and delightful its character may be to us ! Let us look 
round from Sabbath to Sabbath, and especially on sacra- 
mental Sabbaths, upon our brethren and sisters in Christ, 
as our eternal companions in the kingdom of God. Let us 
not stop at the fact, that it is creditable and pleasing to be 
identified with them on earth. It is, indeed, so: but this 
is not all the truth. That moral excellence, and evangeli- 
cal spirit, which render their fellowship so gratifying, 
render their glory sure ; and, therefore, we ought, whilst 
worshipping with them, to anticipate that glory, and to 
treat them as the heirs of it. And they, also, will regard 
us in the same light, if they see any good reason for be- 
lieving that the love of Christ constrains us to follow 
holiness. 

It will, also, add much to our enjoyment of the sanctuary, 
if we pause for a moment, whenever our hearts are in their 
best frame, to say unto ourselves, " This, and more than 
this relish and rapture, will prevail for ever, when we ex- 
change worlds. There will be no return to folly, and no 
relapse into formality, when we reach heaven. There, he 
that is holy will be holy still ; and the beauty of his holi- 
ness remain as unchangeable as the immortality of his 
being." 

And even when the frame of our minds is dull and earth- 



310 ETERNITY REALIZED 

ly, the best thing we can do to quicken our relish for holi- 
ness is, to anticipate heaven. That, indeed, is not easily 
done, when the heart is not right with God. Then it 
seems presumption to cherish the hope of glory. If, how- 
ever, we do not, and dare not, abandon that hope altogether, 
even then ; if we still cling to it, although our soul " cleav- 
eth to the dust," nothing is so likely to bring our spirit into 
harmony with it, as the distinct realization of the time, 
when we shall " bear the image of the heavenly," as fully 
as we now bear " the. image of the earthy." Yes, the 
time, yea, the eternity, is coming, when it will be as im- 
possible for our spirits to weary in well doing, or to lose 
their unction, as it is for angels to dislike heaven, or to 
distrust God. Thus, the due consideration of " what we 
shall be" hereafter, has a direct tendency to make and keep 
us what we ought to be here. 

The mutual love, also, which prevails in heaven, has 
its best emblems and exemplifications in the house of God. 
Domestic love embraces too narrow a circle, and social love 
is too much blended with self-love, to be types of that at- 
tachment which, like the principle of gravitation linking 
star to star throughout the universe, however they differ in 
glory, links spirit to spirit throughout heaven, without par- 
tiality and without hypocrisy. There they love each other 
"for the truth's sake which dwelleth in them, and shall be 
in them ;" and because God and the Lamb love them all 
with a perfect love. 

It is only in the church that this principle is acted on, or 
recognised. And, if it be too little acted on there — and, 
alas, it is so ! still it has no power nor place in any other 
form of society. Cordial love to God and the Lamb, is no 
condition of membership, and no current claim for esteem, 
in any secular association of men. Neither political nor 
commercial bodies, as such, judge of men by their conform- 
ity to the image of God, nor by their love to the Saviour. 
"Whilst, therefore, I would neither hide nor palliate the sad 
deficiency of brotherly love which prevails in our churches. 



IN THE SANCTUARY. 311 

I boldly maintain that nowhere else is there any semblance 
of that love which makes heaven so lovely. Love " for 
the truth's sake" is disowned or overlooked in all temporal 
confederations. Some of these may maintain religious 
tests ; but, in general, real personal religion is no recom- 
mendation to office, and no plea for influence in the world. 
It is impossible, there, to learn the spirit, the motives, or 
the forms of that love, which will blend and bind all heav- 
en in eternal harmony. Except by contrast, no one was 
ever led to think of heaven by the aspect or the spirit of 
any secular assembly. But, in a church, that deserves the 
name, let any number of new and real converts come for- 
ward, or any number of old converts evince a new measure 
of piety, and both will be welcomed and loved on the single 
ground of their love to Christ. An accession to the church 
in heaven could not be more sure of a cordial welcome 
from saints and angels, than true penitents may be here from 
all whose love is worth possessing. On all the hills of 
Zion as on mount Sion, there is joy over one sinner that 
repenteth. Unless, therefore, we exclude from mcetness 
for the inheritance of the saints in light, the love which 
unites them, we must acknowledge that the house of God 
is the gate of heaven ; for, nowhere else is there any pub- 
lic recognition of the grand principle which unites that 
general assembly. " Receive one another, even as Christ 
hath received you," is a lesson not to be learned in the world. 
Is this, then, a part of the meetness for heaven, that we 
are cultivating ? 0, are we taking our chance of catching 
the spirit of celestial love at the gates of the New Jerusa- 
lem ? Why not take our chance of becoming holy there, 
without following holiness here 1 We dare not hazard our 
souls on that experiment. All our ideas and hopes of heav- 
en constrain us to follow holiness. Why ? If because it 
is declared to be necessary, so also is brotherly love. 
"Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer: and ye know 
that no murderer hath etenal life abiding in him. If a man 
say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar : for he 



312 ETERNITY REALIZED 

that loveth not his brother, whom he hath seen, how can 
he love God, whom he hath not seen ?" There is nothing 
said of holiness, more solemn, or heart-searching, or au- 
thoritative than this. And this is the law of the house of 
God, just because it is the gate of heaven. Love is no 
more left to be optional, or to be made a matter of conve- 
nience, than holiness is so. The one is as binding as the 
other ; and both equally a part of meetness for heaven. 

Now, it is by keeping the eternal love and fellowship of 
the saints in light habitually before our minds, that we shall 
best grow in this grace of the Spirit. Nothing is so ef- 
fectual in preventing and healing breaches among breth- 
ren, as the consideration that they will be cordial friends 
in heaven to all eternity. A moment of this thought makes 
us look foolish, and feel guilty, whenever we are conscious 
of an unchristian temper towards a fellow heir of eternal 
life. Even if he is much in fault, we dare not contemplate 
meeting him in glory, before we forgive him. 



No. VIII. 

ETERNITY REALIZED AT THE SACRAMENT. 

Whatever may be the present state of our views or 
feelings in regard to the sacramental supper of the Lamb, 
our first approach to his table was unfeignedly and pecu- 
liarly solemn. This was the case, whether that approach 
was made in much hope, or in much fear ; in joy, or in 
doubt. If hope predominated in our minds, it did so, as it 
reigns in the mind of a dying Christian, who is departing 
" in peace ;" — as solemnly as sweetly. It was as thought- 
ful and prayerful, as it was soothing. ' It was a hope 
" clothed with humility," and quivering with holy awe. 



AT THE SACRAMENT. 313 

Even if joy predominated, it, too, was emphatically " a holy 
joy." Tears, rather than words, were the chief expression 
of it. It was as retiring as it was intense. Solitude, not 
publicity, was its chosen element. We were even jealous 
of that joy, because we felt ourselves to be utterly un- 
worthy of it. 

We remember all this well. We can never forget it, 
however often or much we have, since, failed to realize that 
state of mind. We partook of our first sacrament with 
much of that deep solemnity which pervades the spirit of 
a dying saint, when partaking of his last sacrament. And 
his solemnity is " very deep !" It both sanctions and sanc- 
tifies his application of the Saviour's words to his own 
case : " I will drink no more of the fruit of the vine, until 
that day that I drink it new, in the kingdom of God." Ac- 
cordingly, whatever be the literal meaning of these words, 
or the prophetical meaning of the apocalyptic " marriage- 
supper of the Lamb," we admire and approve his touching 
transition of thought, from the last sacramental-supper on 
earth, to his first celebration of the marriage-supper in 
heaven ; it is, in his circumstances and spirit, so natural, 
appropriate, and beautiful ! Indeed, this is just the way in 
which we wish to be exercised, when our last sacrament 
comes. We should so like ! — to be able to enjoy it as the 
pledge and prelude of the heavenly feast ; so like ! — to be 
able to say to our friends, " I am going to drink of the fruit 
of the vine, new, in the kingdom of God." For, we feel 
that, whatever material imagery runs through such figura- 
tive language, we should not be misunderstood at that mo- 
ment ; and we cannot but think, that the calm and solemn 
utterance of such a good hope, when we are on the utter- 
most verge of eternity, would tend much to endear the sac- 
rament to those members of our family who "keep the 
feast ;" and to enforce its holy and sweet claims on those 
of them who neglect it. 

Well ; our last sacrament will come : it may come soon ! 
And, should we know it to be our last, we shall feel it to 

vol. L — 27 



314 ETERNITY REALIZED 

be very solemn. We shall feel, as if light from eternity 
were the covering of the table ; as if a hand from eternity 
set out and served the sacred emblems ; as if a voice from 
eternity uttered the welcome, " Eat, friends : drink, O 
beloved ;" as if echoes from eternity repeated the closing 
hymn, 

" 'Tis done ; the great transaction's done !" 

Will it be thus ? Ought it to be thus, at our last sacra- 
ment 1 If so, there may be something, there ought to be 
much, of this realizing sense of eternity, at every sacra- 
ment. Any one, even the next, may be our last. 

But, however many " solemn feasts" may be between us 
and the " marriage-supper of the Lamb," in heaven, each of 
them has the same connexion with heaven as the last will 
have. And, as the last may, from our extreme weakness, 
or extreme pain, be any thing but a "time of refreshing," 
it becomes, yea, it behooves us, to try at the next, and at 
every subsequent sacrament, how much we can connect 
it with heaven and eternity. The mind cannot, indeed, 
throw itself, even by an effort, so far " within the veil," as 
the immediate prospect and pressure of death will throw it. 
We cannot force such glimpses of eternity, as the approach of 
death forces upon us. We cannot command that entire and 
intense concentration of spirit in the house of God, which 
is so natural, though inevitable, in the house of mourning, 
at the moment the mourning begins. There, and then, 
without effort, and even without intention, we find ourselves 
absorbed with eternal things. The departure of one spirit 
into the invisible world, displaces, for a time, this world, in 
all the spirits present. The unclothed soul cannot rise 
more rapidly to the throne of God, even if borne on angels' 
wings, than the thoughts and feelings of survivors rush into 
the realization of meeting God. Their spirits are " naked 
and open," too, before God, although in another sense : for, 
at this solemn moment they heed nothing, and hear nothing 
of all that is " under the sun." 



AT THE SACRAMENT. 315 

On such occasions, the soul asserts its own immortality, 
and springs at once into its own element, in spite of all the 
temporal considerations which may be around it. Neither 
grief nor gain can materialize it, for a time. Its freedom 
and force may not last long ; but there is an immortal ener- 
gy about them, for a little, that makes the body feel that 
its limits are too narrow, and its breathing too slow, for the 
full action of a fully conscious spirit. 

When we come from such a scene to the first sacrament 
after it, this absorbing consciousness of our immortality, 
although softened and tranquillized by the interval, is yet 
so vital and vivid, that it gives to that sacrament much of 
the aspect of a last one. Deep thoughts of our own death, 
mingle with our sweetest recollections of the Saviour's 
death. We communicate for eternity. There is an air 
of eternity about the sanctuary, and about ourselves too. 
Our sympathizing friends feel the " unction" as well as the 
weight, that is on our spirit. For it is not their sense of 
our loss alone, that so readily and fully harmonizes their 
looks and tones with our own, when they meet us for the 
first time, after we come from the house of mourning to the 
house of God. That holy and solemn awe which breathes 
in all their manner towards us, is chiefly derived from us. 
They feel that we have been so near the eternal world, that 
any thing not solemn, would be as unkind to our seriousness 
as to our sorrow. They know that we went so far down 
into " the swellings of Jordan," with the spirit which so 
recently passed through them, that they look as if they 
saw drops of the cold and dark waters still hanging upon 
us. And we, too, feel, however soothed or reconciled, 
that it would be a kind of sacrilege even to smile, for a 
time. 

These familiar facts prove, not that it is possible, or even 
desirable, to communicate in this spirit always ; but that it 
is possible, and therefore desirable, to cultivate so much of 
a realizing sense of eternity, that each sacrament may have 
an express reference to it. And this, each may have, as 



316 ETERNITY REALIZED 

well the last, without at all overcasting or overstraining the 
mind. Our first did neither ; and yet it was very solemn. 

The form of these remarks is very defective, or the design 
of them is sadly misunderstood, if they seem to inculcate 
the necessity or the desirableness of an habitual awe on the 
spirit, equal to that we have just contemplated. The spirit 
could not sustain such a load long. It would " fail" under 
the strain and pressure of habitual concentration. Indeed, 
any concentration of its thoughts and feelings, which would 
unfit us for the ordinary duties of life and godliness, is to 
be deprecated. We were not made, nor yet redeemed, for 
thinking only, nor for feeling only. Thinking deeply, for 
the sake of thought; or feeling deeply, for the sake of 
emotion, is oftener a " lust of the mind," than a grace of the 
Holy Spirit. And, in the case of that, almost, convulsive 
excitement, which is produced by the shock, or the fear, 
of death, there is little or no religion in it. It takes place, 
in almost all its forms and force, where there is no religion 
at all. Even some of our domestic animals, are over- 
whelmed by the loss of their young. 

Nothing, therefore, can be farther from my design, than 
to represent " the power of godliness," as an overpowering 
emotion, or even as powerful excitement. Indeed, one grand 
feature of it is — power over all excess both of thought and 
feeling. The foregoing references to our final sacrament, 
and to the first one after bereavement, are intended, there- 
fore, not to bring up, at every sacrament, all the feelings 
peculiar to these extraordinary occasions ; but to bring out 
of that chaos of feeling, the light of eternity which pervades 
it ; and to imbody the light in an orb, which shall shine as 
calmly, and constantly, and brightly, on the sacramental 
table, as the lamps of the temple shone on the altars of 
sacrifice and incense. For it is possible, and desirable, 
and safe, to have such an habitual sense of eternity, as shall 
render every sacrament a foretaste of the marriage-supper 
of the Lamb. Each is both intended and adapted to be so, 
by God ; and, therefore, should be received as such by us. 



AT THE SACRAMENT. 317 

In like manner, nothing is farther from my intention than 
to give a mystical, or superstitious, or undue importance to 
the act of communicating, or to the sacrament itself. Any 
thought, however profound, and any feeling, however spirit- 
ual, which terminates on the symbols or the ceremony, is 
far from blameless. The sacrament, and the sacramental 
act, are nothing, but as they bring the soul near to the Sav- 
iour, and bind it to holiness. Like the Bethel ladder, they 
are beautiful in their simplicity of form, and sublime in their 
suitableness of place ; but it is " the Lord standing above'''' 
them, that is their real glory ; as their tendency to lead to 
Him, is their real use. This must never be forgotten. We 
have done nothing in religion, and nothing that is truly 
spiritual, when we have broken bread, and drank wine, in 
the sanctuary ; however deep may have been the silence, 
and however decorous the solemnity, with which this has 
been done ; unless that deep silence was the expression of 
deep humility, and that solemnity the effect of communing 
with God and the Lamb. 

We should never hesitate to acknowledge nor to proclaim 
this, whatever use some may make of the concession. It 
may be turned against the necessity of the sacrament. 
Those who deny the permanency of its obligation, as a 
Christian ordinance, may argue, that they can commune 
with God and the Saviour, as well without it. This is, 
however, but mere assertion, founded on gratuitous assump- 
tion ; for, as they have never tried the experiment of com- 
muning with God with it, they are not qualified to judge. 
They are, of course, both competent and good judges of 
their own communion with God without it ; but, certainly, 
not of ours with it. They are as ignorant of how far our 
enjoyment exceeds their own, as we are of how far their 
enjoyment falls short of ours. Perhaps, a little more igno- 
rant ; for we have some experience both of the kind and 
degree of fellowship with God, which is enjoyed without 
the sacrament : whereas they have none of the kind or the 
degree which is peculiar with it. 
27* 



318 ETERNITY REALIZED 

Having thus guarded against misunderstandings, let us 
look fairly and fully in the face of the question. How, 
and how much, may the light of eternity be brought and 
kept upon the holy sacrament ? We have seen that death, 
and the fear of death, can actually enshrine it with much of 
the glory, and with more of the solemnities, of eternity. 
And we remember, that, when we have come from the tomb 
to the table, we have communicated in " a right spirit." 
And, as we felt then, and feel still, that we were not too 
serious, nor too prayerful, even then; we are bound by con- 
sistency, to meet the question — How far can we communi- 
cate habitually for eternity ? 

Now, do not imagine nor suspect, that this question is 
intended or calculated, to bring in any new principle, or new 
feeling, into your sacramental devotion. Its real and sole 
design is, to purify that devotion, by making the usual train 
of thoughts and feelings flow more freely on the channels 
of eternity, and set in more directly to the shores of immor- 
tality. And as, at each successive sacrament, we ourselves 
are nearer and nearer to the invisible world, it is, surely, 
neither unnatural nor unreasonable, that our reflections and 
emotions should advance in their intimacy with it. Our 
bodies are for ever growing liker and liker to the mortality 
that awaits them : and our spirits ought to assimilate more 
and more to the immortality that awaits them. 

Now, it is not difficult to realize the manner in which we 
should celebrate the love of Christ in heaven. The moment 
we think of "sitting dow 7 n" at the feast there, in the imme- 
diate and unveiled presence of the Master of the feast; and 
next to the spirits we love ; and near to the whole " general 
assembly" of saints and angels — we feel at once that we 
should take our place with great solemnity, and occupy it 
with holy awe, and employ it for holy purposes. Not a 
look nor motion would be out of character with the scene or 
the service. We should be afraid to glance even at the 
whole landscape of Paradise, lest it should divert us, for a 
moment, from gazing upon the Lamb in the midst of the 



AT THE SACRAMENT. 319 

throne, or from swelling the chorus of the new song. All 
levity, and listlessness, and vacancy, and the very appear- 
ance of them too, would be as much avoided as sleep or 
irreverence. And, is not more of this reverential manner 
as possible, as it is desirable, at the sacramental feast on 
earth 1 Would it not promote all the spiritual purposes of 
communicating, and improve its spirit too, to place ourselves, 
in thought, at the table above, until we felt that the table 
below was on " holy ground," and worthy of the most solemn 
deportment ? This would prevent all postures, and motions, 
and looks, which tend to deaden our own minds, or to dis- 
turb others. 

In like manner, it is not very difficult to realize the spirit 
in which we should "keep the feast" in heaven. We do, 
occasionally, catch a glimpse of the warm emotions which 
the first welcome into heaven, the first sight of heaven, the 
first access to the throne of heaven, will awaken ! We have 
some conception of the mighty burst of mingled wonder, gra- 
titude, and humility, which will be called forth, by finding our- 
selves there ! Even our resolution is already taken, that no 
spirit who has preceded us at the throne, and none who follow 
us, shall be more humble or grateful. We are quite sure that 
we shall prostrate ourselves and our crowns, as low as the 
lowliest ; and employ our harps as cordially and constantly, 
as any spirit in the general assembly of perfect spirits. 

These intentions and anticipations are occasionally pres- 
ent to our minds, during our solitary walks, and when we 
are musing or praying in our closets. Even when sur- 
rounded by our families at home, fond hope will, now and 
then, dart off to heaven, with them in her arms, and go 
through all the glorious act of presenting them safe and 
spotless before the throne, with exceeding joy ! 

Thus we can, we do, realize " the glorious things," at 
times, and in places, where there is not so much to suggest 
the idea of them, or to assist us in realizing them, as there is 
in the sanctuary and at the sacrament. Why not, then, 
before taking our place at the table of the Lord, place our- 



320 ETERNITY REALIZED 

selves in thought at the throne of the Lord, until we see 
and feel the kind of penitence, and the kind of humility, and 
the kind of gratitude, and the kind of love, which becomes 
those who take " the cup of blessing" on earth, as the pledge 
of " the cup of salvation" in heaven ? No process nor di- 
rection of thought would so readily improve " a right spirit," 
or correct a wrong spirit. Indeed, it is only by some pro- 
cess akin to this, that we can succeed in securing a sacra- 
mental spirit : for it will not be forced. All attempts to 
throw out vain thoughts, or to throw off bad feelings, by 
dint of mere effort, almost defeat themselves. These things 
can only be displaced by heavenly things. Whilst Abraham 
only " drove away the fowls" that alighted on his sacrifice, 
" a horror of great darkness" was upon him ; but, when he 
saw the fire of heaven, like " a burning lamp," upon the 
altar, he was able to renew his covenant with God. So it 
is with us. Whilst we are merely driving away " the un- 
clean birds," which haunt the cage of the heart, there is 
only hurry, or confusion, or pain of heart. We are almost 
glad to avoid thinking altogether, that we may not run the 
risk of falling into trains of vain thoughts. We sometimes 
suppress our very breathing, that we may suppress the 
wanderings of our minds ; and we even try to create an 
utter vacuum in our spirit, in the hope that the Spirit of 
God will fill it with holy ideas and emotions. 

Now, although these struggles between the flesh and the 
spirit, at the sacrament, tell a sad tale, and betray humilia- 
ting secrets, concerning both the neglect of due preparation, 
and the want of habitual watchfulness ; they show, also, 
that we have much to learn on the subject of that " all 
diligence," by which the heart may be kept right with God. 
One part of that diligence is, the habit of looking at " the 
things which are eternal." They must be brought into our 
minds, if " the things which are temporal" are to be driven 
out of our minds, whilst we commemorate the death of 
Christ. And, how much easier and pleasanterit is, instead 
of a feverish or confused effort to be solemn and devout, 



AT THE SACRAMENT. 321 

just because we ought to be so, to have recourse, at once, 
to the contemplation of an eternity that can make us so ! 
Eternal redemption — eternal love — eternal life — are objects 
which cannot fail to dislodge vain thoughts, nor to quicken 
dull feelings, if any due measure of attention and prayer be 
given to them. 

In like manner, it is not difficult to realize the purpose 
for which we should keep the feast in heaven. For, were 
it possible to pass within the veil of that temple " once 
every year,'" or even once in the course of our life, and to 
remain as long as the high-priest did in the holy of holies ; 
and then to return to the earth, not at all unfitted for the 
ordinary duties of life, nor at all insensible to the real worth 
and claims of human affairs ; we see, at a glance, that we 
should make all the enjoyment of this visit to the " third 
heavens," bear upon practical holiness for ever after. We 
feel, that, if it were put to us, whilst within the veil, what 
we should choose to bring down from heaven, as most useful 
on earth, and most conducive to promote our final meetness 
for " eternal inheritance," we should fix upon the grace 
which would enable us "to pass unspotted through the 
world." This, after having seen God's "holy hill," we 
should prefer to a crown of glory, or a harp of gold, when 
we had to return to the work and warfare of faith, in this 
world. Indeed, no fruit, " of the tree of life, which is in 
the midst of the paradise of God," would be preferred to 
that, which would fortify us to do and endure the will of 
God well. Or, if we did feel any longing to bring down 
something, which should attract public notice by its splen- 
dour, or feed self-complacency by its singularity, we should 
blush for ourselves, and flee from the vain desire, " as from 
a serpent." 

Now, even by this brief look at " eternal things," we have 
caught a glimpse of the practical purpose of sacramental 
communion, which is just as sober, as the point from which 
it is gained is fanciful. That which we would thus bring from 
the table in heaven, we ought to seek, chiefly, at the table 



322 ETERNITY REALIZED 

on earth ; — firmness to resist temptation, and fortitude to 
bear our trials. 

At the hazard of being charged with repetition, but with 
the hope that it will not be "vain repetition," I renew my 
appeals on the subject of " brotherly love." The want or 
the weakness of this grace, is one great cause of the want 
of sensible enjoyment at the sacrament. Towards some, 
whom God loves, we have no love that is worth mentioning; 
and, towards others, we have hardly good-will. We have 
been offended, perhaps injured, by a few ; and although we 
forgive, we do not. forget ; but take care that they shall 
know, if not feel too, that we remember them. Now, we 
could not. remember them in this way, were their souls and 
our souls to meet at the marriage-supper of the Lamb, in 
heaven. There, we should feel as much ashamed of our 
former high spirit, as they would of their former mean spirit. 
Neither party could bear an apology nor a confession from 
the other, before the throne. The bare idea of recrimina- 
tion, or even of mutual explanations, there, is intolerable ! 
We feel, instinctively, that all unpleasant recollections would 
be for ever lost, in the rapture of meeting to part no more. 

Now, although it is not necessary to bring all this heaven- 
ly temper to bear upon earthly fellowship, it is necessary 
that personal offences, which do not unchristianize the 
offender, should not subject him to unchristian treatment. 
He ought not to be treated as innocent, if he has done wrong ; 
but, if the wrong do not disprove all his pretensons to piety, 
he must not be treated as an " alien." Consider ! he may 
for ever sit next to you in heaven. 



AT HO MP 323 

No. IX. 

ETERNITY REALIZED AT HOME. 

Both the manner and degree in which the habits and 
happiness of domestic life may be improved by the mutual 
hope of eternal life, deserve the serious attention of all 
husbands and wives who are "heirs together of the grace 
of life." No fastidious delicacy, nor dread of singularity, 
should be allowed to prevent them from thinking or speak- 
ing of their eternal prospects, exactly as God has spoken. 
No length of time, during which we have been silent on 
this subject, should deter us from familiarizing ourselves 
with it. " The mighty God, the Lord, hath spoken," freely 
and frequently, upon it ; and, as he never speaks without 
occasion, nor without design, on any subject, we may be 
sure that his reasons are weighty when he speaks of mar- 
riage. 

Now, God has expressly said, that " marriage is honour- 
able ; and, accordingly, he himself signally honours it, by 
making it the emblem of his own love to believers, and of 
their union to Him. " I am married unto thee," was the 
frequent and emphatic language of God to his ancient church. 
Nor is this emblem less employed in the case of the Chris- 
tian church. Her union to Christ is represented as conju- 
gal. Even in heaven, her name is " the Bride, the Lamb's 
wife." Thus signally does God honour the relationship, 
which he calls " honourable." 

It may be criticism to say, " that it is the poverty of human 
language which gives rise to the use of such emblems." It 
is, however, sense, as well as piety, to say, that the riches 
of divine grace require the use of them. It may be philo- 
sophical to regard them as accommodations to the weak- 
ness of our minds. It is, however, wisdom to regard them 
as accommodated to the strength of redeeming love in the 
eternal mind. Such metaphors have, indeed, reasons in 



324 ETERNITY REALIZED 

both our mental and moral weakness ; but their chief rea- 
sons are in the manifold wisdom and grace of God. And 
one of them is — to exalt and endear the marriage union it- 
self, by throwing around it the charms of a better paradise 
than that in which it originated. All the divine arrange- 
ments and declarations on the subject of marriage, have an 
express and splendid reference to eternity. The conjugal 
union is made the emblem of all the grace which gives a 
title to eternal life, just that husbands and wives may live 
and love now, " as being heirs together of the grace of life." 
Their mutual hope of dwelling together in heaven, is made 
the grand motive and rule of their dwelling together in 
harmony on earth. The strong and lovely motive is in no- 
wise weakened or dimmed by the fact, that " in heaven they 
neither marry nor are given in marriage." The same high 
authority which reveals this fact, declares that " they are 
equal unto the angels ;" a consideration quite sufficient to 
inspire the most exalted expectations of mutual recognition 
and enjoyment. Angels are not unacquainted with, nor in- 
different to, each other. Both their love and fellowship are 
perfect. It is impossible to form a higher or a holier idea 
of mutual happiness, than their union and communion before 
the throne ; and, therefore, to be " equal unto the angels " 
m heaven, is the very perfection of social felicity and per- 
sonal glory. 

It is, then, the revealed fact, that pious husbands and 
wives shall be like the angels of God in heaven. This is 
our joint heritage there, who are joint heirs of salvation here. 
" Equal unto the angels !" — Surely, this prospect deserves 
to be greeted with something more grave than a smile. It 
is not visionary nor fanciful. It is a leading and everlast- 
ing feature of the heavenly constitution. It is an actual 
and prominent part of that " life and immortality, which 
Jesus Christ brought to light, through the gospel ;" and, 
therefore, any appearance of levity or indifference towards 
it, is inconsistent with our habitual veneration for our Lord 
and Saviour, as " the faithful and true witness." There is, 



AT HOME. 325 

I am aware, no disrespect, towards Him or His word, in- 
tended, by the smile which usually awaits this subject. A 
tear would, however, be a more appropriate tribute to the 
moral aspect of the subject ; for, how few partners act up 
to the prospect of being eternally " equal unto the angels ?" 
Even the most amiable and exemplary are not, always, to 
each other, exactly " that manner of persons " which they 
ought to be, and might be, who " look for such things " as 
angelic union and communion in heaven. And, if those 
who live and love most as heirs together of the grace of 
life, feel reproved by this prospect, what a reproof it ad- 
ministers to those who neither live nor love so well, as even 
some do who make no pretensions to religion? Their 
mutual hope of eternal harmony cannot be very bright, who 
live in discord. The idea of being for ever, or even ever, 
like the angels of God in heaven, cannot occur often to the 
contentious, or the capricious. It does not occur so often 
to the considerate and affectionate, as it ought to do. 

This is held to be a very delicate subject. Why it should 
be reckoned so, is not very evident. Domestic habits and 
tempers are treated with equal freedom and frequency by 
the Scriptures ; and it is matter of universal experience, 
although not of general acknowledgment, that domestic 
happiness depends more upon temper than upon talents or 
wealth. Were, however, the proverb, that " temper is every- 
thing," to come into general use, it could not create all the 
good temper which domestic happiness requires. It would, 
of course, be very useful, as a check upon passion and peev- 
ishness ; but there is no charm in it, to sanctify or soften 
the heart. It is a good law in itself, but it brings with it 
no new power of obedience. This, however, all the Chris- 
tian laws of domestic life do bring with them. They in- 
spire to the duties they prescribe. 

This is a peculiarity of Christianity which is not suffi- 
ciently appreciated or noticed. There is a delicacy, a ten- 
derness, " a small, still voice," in the family code of the 
New Testament, which is heart-touching ; and thus trans- 

vol. i.— 28 



326 ETERNITY REALIZED 

forming in its sweet influence. Look and listen again to 
that great commandment, upon which all " the law of the 
house " hangs ; " Dwell, as being heirs together of the 
grace of life." This appeal is irresistible, when fairly 
weighed. There is a point, a charm, an indescribable 
something, about the letter and spirit of it, which tells more 
than ten thousand prudential or authoritative maxims could. 
The moment it is proposed as a rule to joint heirs of salva- 
tion, it is approved by them ; and, as soon as it is consider- 
ed, it appears, like a summer rainbow, a bow of peace, en- 
circling and enshrining the whole round of domestic duties. 

Illustration is, however, more wanted than eulogium, on 
this subject. Now, it deserves our special notice, that God, 
in giving laws to believing partners, never urges mutual love 
or peace by the prospect of death. We are, indeed, " heirs 
together " of the sentence of death ; and there is much in 
our mutual mortality to commend and enforce mutual kind- 
ness. We cannot live together long. The term of our 
union may be very short. And, as unkindness and neglect 
are fearfully avenged, by the upbraidings of conscience,when 
death does come, we do well to prepare a good conscience 
for the solemn occasion. Death is not allowed, however, 
to appear at all in the appeal which God makes to our 
hearts on behalf of the domestic virtues. The whole mo- 
tive is drawn from eternal life ; and is so " full of glory," 
that it fills up "the valley of the shadow of death" with 
brightness. We must, indeed, die, in order to inherit the 
kingdom of God ; but, still, it is the kingdom of God, and 
not the kingdom of death, which is placed and kept before 
our minds. 

This is not by accident, nor without design. The Searcher 
of hearts, who knoweth our frame, knows that we, of all 
persons, are most averse to contemplate death ; and, there- 
fore, in order that we may have no excuse for not thinking 
of heaven, He founds his appeals to us, not on our mortali- 
ity, but entirely on our immortality ; that, thus, death might 
be " swallowed up in victory." This is as wise as it is 



AT HOME. 327 

kind. It is the only way to conquer parental fears of death. 
Moral maxims, however just — and direct warnings, however 
solemn — could not win us to the habitual considerations of 
our latter end, whilst our children are young. The degree 
of warning, that would compel us to number our days, would 
soon shorten our days, or unfit us for our duties ; and thus 
defeat its own purpose. It is not, therefore, by warnings, 
nor by plying us with motives, derived from the shortness of 
life, or the solemnity of death, that God enforces our con- 
jugal and parental duties. We are not brought " unto the 
mount that burned with fire ; nor unto blackness and dark- 
ness and tempest ; nor unto the sound of a trumpet," to 
hear the law of our mortality, or the law of our relationship ; 
but we are brought to hear both sounding from " Mount 
Sion," the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem ; 
where "an innumerable company of angels" await our 
coming ; and Jesus, the Mediator of the new covenant, 
preserves our prepared place for us. Truly our law, 
Christian parents ! is " ordained by angels in the hand of a 
Mediator." 

Were these facts as familiar to us as they are scriptural, 
we could not be so much in bondage to the fear of death, 
nor so silent about our hope of heaven But they are not 
familiar : and the consequence is, there is little or no sweet 
counsel between husbands and wives on the subject. In 
general, heaven is almost as seldom realized or referred to 
as death. So unusual is any conversation on the point, that 
even a question about heaven, unless a curious one, would 
be reckoned an omen or foreboding of death, rather than a 
symptom of heavenly-mindedness. There are very few 
husbands or wives, who would not be more startled than 
gratified, by an attempt, on either side, to draw on a serious 
conversation about their mutual prospects for eternity. Even 
the discovery, or the suspicion, that the thoughts of either 
party were dwelling much upon heaven, would be interpret- 
ed into a sign that that party was " not long for this world." 
Thus the manifestation of heavenly-mindedness is rather 



328 ETERNITY REALIZED 

dreaded than desired, even by pious partners ; because they 
have fallen into the habit of regarding it as the forerunner 
of death. 

And, is it not so ? Is it not become almost proverbial 
to say, of those who begin to dwell much on heavenly 
things, " that they are too ripe for glory to be long here? 
And do not observation and experience, thus, give some 
countenance to the suspicion I I answer, at once, — none at 
all. The facts on which such questions are founded, are 
gathered from wrong quarters. They occur amongst aged, 
or very delicate Christians, whose many infirmities cannot 
be well sustained without much of the hope of eternal life ; 
and, therefore, such facts prove nothing that is really ap- 
plicable to the great majority of married believers. Where- 
ever heavenly-mindedness seems an omen of approaching 
death, there are other omens indicating and hastening that 
approach. It is, therefore, not fair, to attribute an ominous 
character or aspect to the habit of looking to the things 
which are " unseen and eternal." Paul's confidence of life 
was strongest, at the very time when his heavenly-minded- 
ness was the greatest. " I have a desire to depart, and to 
be with Christ ; which is far better. Nevertheless, to abide 
in the flesh is more needful for you. And, having this 
confidence, I know that I shall abide and continue with 
you all, for your furtherance and joy of faith.'' Phil. i. 23. 
This case, although apostolic, is not unapplicable to Chris- 
tian parents. Whilst God sees it to be really " more need- 
ful," for the sake of our children, that we should " abide" 
with them, the cultivation of a " desire to depart and to be 
with Christ," will no more hasten our departure than it did 
Paul's ; but will, in fact, best qualify us for the " further- 
ance" of our children, in whatever is good for them. Be- 
sides, the natural tendency of that heavenly-mindedness 
which God inculcates, is, to promote health, and to prolong 
life. A hope full of immortality, is full of tranquillity and 
cheerfulness ; and thus favourable to the body as well as to 
the mind. tt What man is he that desireth life, and loveth 



AT HOME. 329 

many days, that he may see good ?" Every pious husband. 
Then, " ye husbands, dwell with your wives, according to 
knowledge, giving honour unto the wife, as unto the weak- 
er vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life. 
Likewise, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands ; 
and let your adorning be, the hidden man of the heart, in 
the incorruptibility of a meek and quiet spirit, — which is, 
in the sight of God, of great price." Ye are both to be 
" equal unto the angels" in heaven ; be not, therefore, un- 
like them, whilst you remain on earth. 

" This view of the matter," it may be said, " is certainly 
very pleasing ; but, as the hope of eternal life is not com- 
mon nor constant, even amongst truly pious partners, how 
can it become a general principle of feeling or conduct V 
Now, I readily grant, that if it were brought forward to set 
aside the use of other revealed principles or rules of do- 
mestic life, this would be a formidable objection. It is, how- 
ever, advanced here, as it is in the Word of God, not to 
supersede any divine law, or natural affection, but to hallow 
all the former, and to sanctify all the latter. And, surely, 
if neither the frequent weakness, nor yet the occasional 
absence of the hope of eternal life, is found to set aside the 
use of our ordinary motives, the predominance of that hope 
is not likely to do so. If many good principles remain 
firm without much of it, more of it, is not calculated to re- 
lax them. 

It is, however, very much doubted, whether such an ha- 
bitual hope of heaven, as would habitually influence do- 
mestic life, be attainable by the generality of godly parents 
and partners. Many of both are quite of opinion that, 
whilst they have so little leisure, and so much care, they 
cannot reach the privilege of reading their 



" Title clear, 
To mansions in the skies. 



And in this way we all reason, more or less. Indeed, 
28* 



330 .ETERNITY REALIZED 

it is with considerable difficulty that any one learns to sus- 
pect, even in secret, the hollowness of such reasoning ; it 
is so plausible in appearance. Nothing seems more na- 
tural, or likely to be true, than that much time and little 
worldly care must be necessary, in order to acquire a bright 
and abiding hope of heaven. Nothing, however, is more 
untrue than this natural supposition. All the oracles of 
God contradict it ; and no wonder ! Ours is not a world 
in which much leisure time can be commanded ; nor in 
which cares can be avoided ; and, therefore, the gospel 
would ill accredit its own name or pretensions, if the hope 
of eternal life, which is its first promise, as well as its final 
reward, could not be enjoyed by those believers who have 
much to do and endure. The gospel is, therefore, misun- 
derstood, so far, by all who imagine that their public duties, 
or their domestic cares, place them afar ofT from a lively 
hope of glory. It is just because we have so much to do 
and to suffer, as well as because it cannot be merited, that 
eternal life is the free gift, and the faithful promise of God, 
to believers ; so that what we put forward as our reason 
for not venturing to cherish the hope of heaven, is actually 
one of God's reasons for making it as free as it is fair. 
Unless, therefore, a believing husband is doing something 
in his business, that is wrong ; or his believing wife doing 
something in her family, that is imprudent; why should 
they not abound in hope ? Their duties warrant, not forbid 
it. Their ultimate design in doing so much for their 
children is, that they too may choose the way to heaven : 
and, therefore, it would be strange, indeed, if such parental 
efforts were hinderances to parental anticipations of heav- 
en. Those who regard family duties in this strange light, 
must have very unscriptural notions of both godliness and 
glory. There is, however, quite as much of that holiness, 
which constitutes meetness " for the inheritance of the 
saints," in providing for and bringing up a family in the 
fear of God, as in any other virtue of Christian character. 
All these distinctions and explanations will not, how- 



AT HOME. 331 

ever, remove the difficulty we naturally feel, unless we un- 
derstand the gospel itself well. The pious husband or wife, 
who does not believe that " he that believeth in Christ hath 
eternal life," will not be able to keep up the hope of heaven. 
It will be thrown down or dimmed by every accident, and 
by all the fluctuations of their spirits and feelings. Indeed, 
it wi\\ fall down of itself, until it take its final stand on the 
promise of God through Jesus Christ. Now, he has promised 
eternal life unto them who rely on the cross for a holy sal- 
vation ; and, therefore, it is just as much our duty to take 
the full comfort of the promise, as it is to give the cross our 
full confidence. Not even the plagues of our hearts, which 
we so often feel, and so deeply lament, must be allowed to 
prevent this duty of hoping unto the end. Giving up hope 
is, in fact, giving them head. If Satan succeed in his 
efforts to make us afraid of cherishing a good hope through 
grace, we shall soon settle into a worse frame than any we 
now deplore. The more, therefore, that we feel and fear 
the plagues of our hearts, the more reason we have to cling 
both to the cross and the crown ; for all that is bad will 
only become worse, if we lose or lessen our hold upon either. 
If these hints throw any light on the general subject of 
this Essay, they now warrant the question — why should 
not mutual heirs of the grace of life speak freely and fre- 
quently to each other of their eternal prospects ? These 
prospects are not gloomy in their aspect, nor precarious 
in their tenure. It is true, 

" Death like a narrow sea divides 
That heavenly land from ours ;" 

but that sea is both bridged and brilliant to us, with the 
great and precious promises. Or, if we cannot yet realize 
it in this light, silence is not the best way to surmount our 
fears of death. These, like other fears, strengthen by con- 
cealment and lessen by disclosure. Why not, then, discuss 
them as well as we do others ! Why so much reserve, and 
shame, and timidity, on the subject of our mutual ' immor- 



332 ETERNITY REALIZED 

tality ? We are not indifferent to each other's final safety. 
Neither of us could bear the idea of 'parting in silence. 
Whichever may be the survivor, the utterance of a good 
hope will be anxiously looked for then. Consider this : we 
may be unable to utter the wished for " All is well," on our 
death-bed. And, therefore, if we prolong our present si- 
lence, we are risking each other's comfort at a moment 
when there is no such balm to the widowed and the wounded 
heart, as is the dying assurance of peace. O ! let not the 
flow of that healing balm depend upon the vicissitudes of 
mortal pain ! Let it drop in the garden of home now, and 
be treasured up " against that day." 

Still, we shrink from speaking " as being heirs together 
of the grace of life." Why is this 1 Are we not joint heirs 
of salvation ? Do we " stand in doubt" of each other ? If 
not, what are we afraid of ? Say not, " who must begin 
this unusual kind of communion ?" Any formal effort to 
introduce it would prevent it. It must not be attempted as 
a task. Whoever is the first to break the ice on this sub- 
ject, must not seem to be conscious that there is any ice to 
break. Family prayer is the best medium for introducing 
family hopes. The regular introduction, and the gradual 
amplification, of the apostolic thanksgiving, 1 Pet. i. 3, in 
prayer, would pave the way for conversation. For, what 
we often and openly united to say unto God, we should soon 
be able to say unto each other. 

These remarks proceed on the assumption, that God is 
favourable to the domestic happiness of them who fear him, 
and solicitous to promote it. And this is the revealed fact. 
He looks with no unfriendly or jealous eye upon a happy 
home ; nor considers time mispent, or religion misapplied, 
in multiplying in-door comforts. The family bliss which he 
breaks up so often by the strokes of his providence, and of 
which we are in the habit of saying, " it is too good to last 
long," is not the happiness now referred to. It is of life, 
health, and temporal prosperity, we speak thus ; and these 
are precarious in every family, however the heads of it may 



AT HOME. 333 

feel or act together. No maxim, however good or well 
applied, can secure exemption from all domestic calamity. 
But the happiness which depends on mutual love, mutual 
tenderness, and mutual confidence, may be secured by living 
together as joint heirs of eternal life. 

Now, there must be some favourable light in which pious 
husbands and wives view each other ; and some leading 
reason to influence their mutual conduct; and, therefore, 
the most endearing light, and the strongest reason, should 
be frequently, indeed habitually, before their minds. And, 
what so endearing and dignifying as being called fellow- 
heirs of salvation? It is not underrating any personal or 
relative charm, on either side, to affirm, that "a good hope 
through grace" eclipses them all ; and is the best, indeed 
the only, permanent security, of all that is moral or amiable 
in the character. It ought, therefore, to be often referred 
to, and always acted upon, as the chief endearment of do- 
mestic life. But, is there not reason to fear, that it is too 
seldom and slightly noticed, even by pious partners 1 It is 
not intended to insinuate, by this question, that they are 
insensible to the value or the charm of each other's piety. 
No ; they never think of it without pleasure and gratitude. 
But it may be questioned, whether we think of it so often 
as it deserves and demands. For, what is the fact, when 
husband and wife are possessors of " like precious faith ?" 
They are warranted to reflect thus : " The object of my 
choice is chosen of God ; is one for whom the Lamb died, 
and ever lives to intercede ; one enlightened and renewed 
by the Holy Spirit : one to whom angels minister on earth, 
and for whom a crown of glory is laid up in heaven !" This 
is nothing more than the fact, translated into language : but, 
what a different effect this view of it has upon the heart, 
compared with the common-place emotion excited by the 
reflection — he is & good man — she is a good woman ? Even 
the more spirited reflection, " he or she is a Christian, if 
ever there was one," is not so inspiring as viewing each 
other as heirs together of the grace of life. The consid- 



334 ETERNITY REALIZED 

eration, in this sublime form, carries away the mind at once 
to the grace of the Father in adopting ; to the love of the 
Son in redeeming ; to the power of the Spirit in converting 
the persons ; and thus raises them, in each other's estima- 
tion, to a rank and importance equally high and holy ! And 
while they realize each other's state before God, in this 
glorious light, what will they not do and suffer for each 
other? The bright consciousness of being " one in Christ 
Jesus," would not dim its lustre by an unkind word or look. 
Caprice, peevishness, and all the natural ebullitions of 
temper, if they should at times rush to the lips, would rush 
back, ashamed of themselves, as unseemly, and inconsistent 
with the mutual hope of eternal life. 

Now, if the ordinary ties and attractions and endear- 
ments of domestic life, often fail to maintain uniform kind- 
ness and harmony — if even vague and occasional views of 
each other, as Christians, fail to carry husband and wife 
calmly through the duties and trials of home ; and if the 
higher view would evidently have a happier influence, both 
duty and interest call for an immediate attention to the 
apostolic maxim — " Dwell, as being heirs together of the 
grace of life." 

The maxim is equally important on other accounts. It 
is the only principle on which husband and wife can im- 
bibe, or maintain the spirit of Christian fellowship. Now 
a free interchange of spiritual joys and sorrows is a rare 
thing in domestic life. There is often far more reserve, 
silence, and timidity, between man and wife, on this sub- 
ject, than between each of them and their pious friends. 
Ministers often know more of the mind of both, than they 
know of each other's experience. And this happens where 
there is no want of mutual confidence ; even where the 
parties think highly of each other's piety. But, having 
never ventured to unbosom themselves freely upon this one 
point, the state of their souls before God becomes almost 
an inviolate secret at home. They thus suffer and enjoy in 
silence ; although they have no particular reason for being 



AT HOME. 335 

silent, except that they cannot break through the habit of re- 
serve. This is one of the bad effects of overlooking the apos- 
tolic maxim at the outset of domestic life : communion of 
spirit is prevented by the neglect. There may be fellowship 
of opinion — fellowship of taste, maintained by an inter- 
change of sentiment about books and sermons and ministers : 
but nothing will secure fellowship of spirit, between man 
and wife, but the habit of realizing and treating each other 
as joint heirs with Christ. And were they, on this principle, to 
speak freely to each other, both when all is well, and when 
all is wrong within, and to consult and console as fellow- 
heirs of salvation, the mutual benefit would be incalculable. 
Accordingly, the occasional instances, when reserve has 
been thrown off, or forced off, during the prospect of death, 
or the pressure of calamity, can never be forgotten by either 
party. The bright glimpses which they then gave each 
other of their hopes, are fixed stars in their memory. The 
secret, although only whispered, remains an everlasting 
music in each mind. Now, why is it not fully disclosed, 
and habitually reciprocated, that their "joy might be full V* 
The bearings of this maxim upon the character and suc- 
cess of parental instruction, deserves special notice. For, 
how can religion be endeared to children by formal lessons, 
if there be no familiarity between parents in speaking of 
its hopes and comforts as their own ? What charm or ex- 
cellence ean it obtain youthful credit for, if parents say 
nothing of the positive benefit which they themselves de- 
rive from it ? Our children hear us speak freely and fre- 
quently of whatever else interests us deeply ; and we feel 
it to be a sacred duty to prove to them, from the case of 
others, the value and necessity of piety : but, why not prove 
this to them from our own case and experience ? This ap- 
peal would be more powerful. For, parents living and con- 
versing together as joint heirs of eternal life, would thus 
give an effect to domestic instruction, which, as it could 
only be exceeded by the work of the Eternal Spirit, would 
be likely to secure his blessing. 



336 CHRIST, THE 

Domestic afflictions likewise call for the use of this 
maxim. We are all liable to interruptions of health ; and 
when they are long, fatiguing, and expensive, ordinary mo- 
tives will not maintain that uniform patience, tenderness, 
and attentions, which are so requisite. But he, or she, who 
ministers to an heir, a joint heir of glory, will not weary in 
well-doing. That is a charm which, by not decaying it- 
self, preserves from decay all the kindly feelings of nature 
and grace ; and makes the watcher in the solitary sick 
chamber feel akin to the angels of God ; " for, are they not 
all ministering spirits to the heirs of salvation ?" The task 
of long watching and much serving may seem intolerable 
to others, who think of the object less as an heir of glory 
than as a burden ; but, in the former light, it is watching 
the polishing of a " living stone," destined for a high place 
in the temple of God ; watching the culminating of a star 
which is to differ from other stars in glory ; watching the 
refining of gold that is to form part of the mediatorial 
crown. 



No. X. 

CHRIST, THE GLORY OF ETERNITY. 

Were there nothing else to prove the Divinity of the 
Saviour, but the degree in which the happiness of heaven 
is represented, as flowing from his presence and glory — 
that one fact is fatal to Socinianism, and to every system 
which makes the Son inferior to the Father. It is espe- 
cially fatal to the theory of the mere humanity of the Sav- 
iour ; for a mere man, however highly endowed or well 
disposed, could not render himself the companion, even, 
of the countless myriads who shall inherit heaven ; much 



GLORY OF ETERNITY- 337 

less could lie be to each and to all the heirs of glory the 
eternal source and centre of their happiness. Such, how- 
ever, the Lamb, in common " with God," is expressly and 
uniformly declared to be. To the Son, as much as to the 
Father, is ascribed the eternal absence of all pain in heav- 
en. " They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; 
neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat : For the 
Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, 
and shall lead them to living fountains of waters ; and God 
shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." The absence 
of all darkness, mental and moral, is traced to the same 
source. " The glory of God did lighten it ; and the Lamb 
is the light thereof ; for there shall be no night there." 

In literal accordance with this view of heaven, the Sav- 
iour, in his great intercessory prayer, addressed the Father 
thus, — " I will that they also whom thou hast given me, be 
with me where I am, that they may behold my glory." 
Thus also he spoke to his disciples, " If I go and prepare 
a place for you, I will come again and receive you to my- 
self; that where I am, there ye maybe also." Thus Paul, 
also, summed up the bliss and glory which he anticipated 
in heaven, — " I desire to depart, and to be with Christ ; 
which is far better." And, " to be for ever with the Lord " 
is the apostolic form of embracing and imbodying all the 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory. Now all this is 
utterly incompatible with the theory of a finite Saviour. 
The mere man — of Unitarianism ; and the incarnate angel 
of Arianism, are equally unfit to be Jehovah's " Fellow," 
in the mighty work of filling all heaven with everlasting 
joy and glory. He who is " equal with God," in the com- 
munication of that bliss, must be equal with God in his es- 
sence and resources. No finite being could so universalize 
his attentions amongst such myriads, as to gratify them all 
alike, even if his attentions were capable of perfecting 
their enjoyment. 

Were there, therefore, only the legitimate inferences de- 
ducible from the single fact, that God and the Lamb are 

vol. i. — 29 



338 



CHRIST. THE 



equally the revealed source and centre of the eternal bliss 
of heaven, I, as a believer in immortality, should feel bound, 
by reason and common sense, to reject both the Unitarian 
and the Arian view of Christ ; just because such a Christ 
could not be, in common with the Father, the glory of such 
a heaven. I might not, indeed, be able to infer so much 
from the fact of his companionship with God in this mat- 
ter, as I now know from express revelation ; but I should 
be compelled to infer from it — or, rather, I could not shut 
my eyes to the natural inferences which emanate from it, 
like light from the sun, — that Jesus must be more than man, 
and higher than angels. In a word, it is Trinitarianism 
only, that furnishes a satisfactory explanation of the fact 
just stated ; and that fact is so interesting, that it deserves 
the chief place in all our meditations on eternal glory. 

With what sublime simplicity and brevky Paul sums up 
the bliss of heaven : " so shall we be for ever with the 
Lord." It would be much to " be for ever with" any one 
of the angels, in any part of heaven, however remote from 
the throne of God and the Lamb. It would be much to 
" be for ever with" any one of the saints, even if not within 
the sight or the sound of the " general assembly" before the 
throne. It would be much to "be for ever" alone on the 
most distant hill of immortality. It would be much to " be 
for ever" any where, out of hell. What, then, must it be, 
to " be for ever with the Lord V 9 

When you think of hell, and realize, only for a moment, 
the bare idea of being "for ever with" Satan and his an- 
gels ; " for ever with" all the impure and impenitent spirits 
in the universe, you feel, through all your soul, that even 
eternal solitude in any other spot of the universe, would be 
an unspeakable mercy. You are not only ready to say, " I 
had rather be a door-keeper" of the house of God in heaven, 
for ever, " than dwell in the tents of wickedness ;" but you 
are ready to say, I had rather spend my eternity alone, even 
on the very shore of the " great gulf" which divides heaven 
and hell, if I were allowed to be on its heavenly side ; than 



GLORY OF ETERNITY. 339 

be free from torment on its infernal side ; because, on the 
side next to heaven, I should, at least, escape the contami- 
nation of hell. 0, yes ; " Gather not my soul with sinners" 
for ever, wherever else it may be placed. Let me rather 
dwell for ever on the most distant and desolate star in space ; 
or hover for ever through the gloom of starless infinity, 
eternally alone, than dwell where spirits are " unholy still, 
and filthy still." 

It is, then, the sober fact, that any place out of hell, and 
any condition not unholy, are infinitely preferable to the 
wrath to come. Any of the imaginary conditions we have 
glanced at, we would gladly accept, rather than dwell with 
apostate and despairing spirits ; even if there were no 
"devouring fire" in their everlasting prison. O, yes ; let 
the soul only " escape" from that society and scene ; and 
wherever it might wing its way in the regions of immensi- 
ty ; whether on, or beyond, the utmost limits of creation, 
it would for ever " sing of mercy," and say, at every spot 
where it paused, " the lines are fallen to me in pleasant 
places, and I have a goodly heritage," although not in 
heaven ! 

All this is, happily for believers ! impossible. It is not, 
however, improper, nor imprudent, to indulge the supposi- 
tion, for the purpose of preparing ourselves to form a due 
estimate of heaven. Now, if eternal solitude would be 
endurable, even if in the vacant spaces of infinity, what 
must be the bliss of eternal society, around the throne of 
God and the Lamb 1 If to be for ever with one angel or 
saint, at the very farthest " borders of Emmanuel's land," 
would be " worthy of all acceptation," what will it be to be 
for ever with the " innumerable company of angels," and 
with all " the spirits of just men made perfect ?" If to be 
a doorkeeper of the heavenly temple would be joy un- 
speakable ; what must be the joy of being " made kings 
and priests unto God ?" And, if to be for ever with any 
one in heaven, would be certain and sublime happiness; 
what must be the certainty and sublimity of being " for ever 



340 CHRIST, THE 

with the Lord ?" " For ever with the Lord !" There 
is no idea of heaven dearer to the followers of Christ, than 
this. And all our other ideas of it, even the fondest of them, 
culminate and centre in seeing and being with the Saviour. 
Even the sweet hope of reunion with the spirits we love 
most, is sweetest in the form of joining them, to cast our 
crowns at his feet together. We feel that however high 
natural love may swell them, the only effect of it will be to 
swell higher the song, " unto Him that loved us, and wash- 
ed us in his own blood, be glory for ever." Thus, hus- 
bands and wives, parents and children, will especially feel, 
when they meet before the throne ; and, just in proportion 
to the joy of that meeting, will be the attention, and the 
gratitude, and the love, it will concentrate upon the Lamb, 
slain for them ! 

In like manner, all the joys and glories of heaven will, 
and must, have a similar influence on all the redeemed ; 
because the whole church being equally indebted to Christ 
for heaven, the more glorious heaven is, the more grateful 
they must be to Him. " Whom have I in heaven but thee !" 
is an exclamation which nothing there will stop or lessen, 
even when all that is within the veil is as visible as it is 
eternal. For, as neither the splendour of daylight, nor the 
softness of moonlight diverts our thoughts from the lumina- 
ries which emit them ; but rather fixes our attention on the 
sun that rules by day, and the moon that rules by night ; 
so neither the personal nor the relative enjoyments of heav- 
en, however manifold or entrancing, can have any other 
tendency than to endear the Saviour. There is, therefore, 
as much sound logic, as sublime poetry, in that stanza : — 

" Millions of years my wondering eyes 
Shall o'er his beauties rove ; 
And endless ages I'll adore 
The glories of his love !" 

Communion of spirit, with the very " Morning stars of the 
angelic hierarchy," will not prevent this admiration of the 



GLORY OF ETERNITY. 341 

Saviour, even when they sing together from all their orbits, 
the wonders of creation ; and explain from all their expe- 
rience, the mysteries of Providence. Indeed, every note 
of their " descant on creation," will naturally and must 
inevitably, lead our minds to Christ ; — " for by him were 
all things created, visible and invisible ;" so that the more 
the glories of the material universe are shown or celebrated 
in heaven, the more we shall turn to the Son, saying, with 
the Father, " Thou, Lord, in the beginning, didst lay the 
foundations of the earth ; and the heavens are the works 
of thy hands." And, upon the same principle, if angels 
rehearse to us the history of every providential event, over 
which they sang " Hallelujah ;" and even if the Eternal 
Spirit should solve the mystery of all these events, as they 
record them, the vast and varied theme will only, can only, 
increase our love to Him, whose incarnation and atonement 
were prepared for by the Old Testament series of these 
events, and rewarded by the New Testament series of 
providences. For, however the philosophy of nature and 
history may divert the mind from Christ crucified here, it 
will not do so there. Creation and providence, when seen 
in the light of eternity, will be as full of Christ, and lead 
as directly to Christ, as the Bible does now. As to Him, 
" all the prophets" give witness here ; so there, every star 
visible from the heaven of heavens, will, like the star of 
Bethlehem, point to Him : and, as he is " all, and all, and 
Head over all things," in revelation ; so, when all that 
infinity embraces, and all that eternity will explain, is as 
familiar as the flowers of the field now are, Jesus will still 
be all and all, and head over all, in heaven. " He must in- 
crease" for ever, however the arcana of the works of crea- 
tion, and the workings of providence are laid open ; and 
whatever be the glory of the prospects which shall dawn 
on the Church, when she is presented complete and spot- 
less to the Father. 

And, if the universe of being, in all its history and mys- 
tery unveiled, will be unable to divert the mind from the 
29* 



342 CHRIST, THE 

adoration or the admiration of the Lamb of God, it is need- 
less to say, that no personal, or family or social interest, 
will be able to do so. Whatever intimacies may be re- 
newed or formed throughout the general assembly ; and 
whatever delight may be derived from fellowship with 
angels of all orders, and saints of all ages ; and whatever 
the degree of this holy intercourse may be, the direct ten- 
dency of the whole must be to exalt and endear the Saviour; 
because He is the direct source of the felicity. 

It is, therefore, worthy of special attention, at this point 
of the argument, that it is by no arbitrary arrangement that 
the Lamb is the glory of heaven. He is not so, because 
he is appointed to be so ; but he has been appointed be- 
cause he deserves to be so. The Father has placed him 
only where the church would have placed him, of her own 
accord, if left to her own choice. 

In like manner, it is not chiefly because it is law or du- 
ty, that the hearts and harps of all the redeemed will turn 
with adoring gratitude to the Redeemer ; but because it is 
natural that they should thus centre upon Him, in common 
with the Father and the Holy Spirit. He would be en- 
throned with them in every heart, even if he were not " in 
the midst" of the eternal throne with them already ; and, 
were there no legislative claim upon the love or gratitude 
of the church, she would continue the " new song," in all 
its compass and melody, without weariness for ever. 

Such being the sober facts of the case, it is easy to see 
how all that will be known of the Father and the Spirit, 
however much it may be, must have the effect of endearing 
the Son. It is demonstrable, that the more God is unveil- 
ed, the more the Lamb will be admired. Indeed, the man- 
ifestation of the Father's glory, however full and clear, 
must manifest the glory of the Son, in the same proportion : 
for, He being " the brightness" of that glory, the brighter it 
shines, the more glorious he will appear. And, in like 
manner, the more the person of God is seen face to face, 
the more will the dignity of the Saviour be disclosed ; be- 



GLORY OF ETERNITY. 343 

cause, He being " the express image" of that person, its 
manifestation will be his also. 

This, although a delicate, is a delightful subject. We 
expect, or desire, to see much, and to understand more, of 
the divine nature. Our present ideas of it are rather daz- 
zling, than distinct. We are even afraid to imbody our 
conceptions of it ; and shrink from stamping it with local- 
ity or shape. Even our conception of it is rather an emo- 
tion, than an image. No wonder, therefore, if we antici- 
pate much from seeing God " as he is !" But, even this 
great sight will in nowise divert or divide our attention or 
attachment from the Saviour. No ; when the veil drops, 
however far it descend, and however full may be the disclo- 
sure of the godhead, all the bearings of this beatific 
vision, on Christ, will be the demonstration that " in Him 
dwelleth all the fulness of the godhead bodily." As he 
said on earth, " he that hath seen me hath seen the Father 
also ;" so, when the Father shall show himself face to face 
in heaven, it will be in effect, saying, " he that hath seen 
me hath seen the Son also." 

Nor is this all the tendency of the manifestation. Every 
ray of its glory, whilst it will unveil the essential glory of 
the Lamb, will also invest his cross with new and height- 
ened attractions ; and thus promote and prolong for ever 
the celebration of his atonement. For, the more that is 
shown of the majesty, the holiness, the justice, and the 
love of God, the more will and must the wonders of the 
cross be admired, and the manifold wisdom of it be studied 
by all the redeemed. 

This line of argument is equally applicable to the mani- 
festation of the person and glory of the Eternal Spirit. 
Nothing that he does now in sanctifying or consoling the 
church, diverts or divides her attention from the Saviour ; 
but the whole bearing of spiritual operations and influences, 
is to " glorify Christ." Now, if this be their' direct ten- 
dency, whilst they are but partially understood, and but in- 
adequately appreciated, it is self-evident that they can have 



344 CHRIST. THE 

no different effect, when they are all fully estimated in 
heaven. No ; when all the agency of the Holy Spirit, 
and all the holy results of it are familiar, it will just, like 
the beatific vision of the Father's person and glory, en- 
shrine the Lamb slain with proportionate effulgence. 

Thus all that we know or can anticipate of heaven, tends 
only to confirm the revealed fact, that to " be ever with the 
Lord," is the very substance of eternal happiness. Being 
" ever with" the Father and the Holy Spirit, will just de- 
monstrate this fact. For, let it never be forgotten, that it 
is the atoning work of the Son, which has brought out, into 
such full and harmonious display, the glories of the divine 
nature and character. Through no other medium could 
they have been so perfectly manifested. Whatever, there- 
fore, be the degree in which God is glorified by the full 
development of his perfections, the Lamb furnished both 
the opportunity and the medium of it ; and, therefore, when 
it is fullest and fairest, the Lamb must still be the mirror in 
which it shines. 

Having thus endeavoured to realize some of the chief 
joys of being with the Lord, it will not be imprudent nor 
unprofitable to glance at the pleasures which must spring 
from witnessing his present offices, in heaven. We now 
think of his intercession with delight. We shall soon 
see how it is conducted. And, whatever be the manner or 
the spirit in which he intercedes, both will throw back our 
thoughts upon the lowness of our past and present estimate 
of it. Nothing, perhaps, will deepen our humility in heav- 
en, more than the remembrance of our reluctance to pray, 
when we see how the Father " waiteth to be gracious ;" 
and how the Son " ever liveth to intercede." We shall 
judge impartially then, how they ought to pray, whom we 
have left on earth ; and, in this judging of their duty, we 
shall, with all the reason and conscience of our perfected 
spirits, condemn the formality and coldness which so often 
marked our own devotion. Only think ! — what we must 
feel when we first see the Saviour rise before the throne 



GLORY OF ETERNITY. 345 

to intercede for those whom we have left ? It is not ne- 
cessary, in order to realize the effect of this act on our 
minds, that we should assist our thoughts now by the ma- 
terial imagery of a " golden censer," or of" much incense." 
No ; the bare idea, that he " appears in the presence of 
God for" his people, is quite sufficient to lift up our spirits 
to something of that holy amazement which they must feel, 
when they see and hear how he pleads for his church. 
Such will and must be the effect of witnessing his actual 
intercession, that no witness of it could be unwilling to 
return to the earth for a time, (were a return proper in all 
other respects,) just to pay due honour to that intercession. 



END OF VOL. I. 



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